To Err Is Human
by shippingdiva
Summary: Gibbs wants Tony out of his life for good. Can Tony mend their fractured relationship? Can Gibbs learn to change? Meanwhile, a killer has struck and the team have very few clues to go on.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Tony forced down the panic that he felt rising in his throat. For once, he had no idea what to say, his usual glib patter silenced. He'd realised that things could, and probably would, get ugly at work, but he'd had no idea that it would come to this. He'd not anticipated Gibbs' furious words, words that were stabbing into him like red hot knives.

"You'll transfer to another team, DiNozzo. Don't care where you go. Some other city or a foreign posting if that's what you'd prefer. Anywhere, as long as you're not here at the Naval Yard". Gibbs' voice was pure steel shot through with iron. The look in his eyes was a perfect match.

"Not going to be vindictive, DiNozzo. You transfer out, I'll give you good references. Don't have a problem with your work as an agent. It's… _you_…I have the problem with".

Gibbs' last words came out coated with venom, the word _you _almost spat out, his lips twisting with the anger that he was keeping under tight control. Only a slight twitch at his right temple betrayed the effort that he was making to rein in his fury.

"You'll go see Vance immediately, request a transfer. The sooner you're off my team the better as far as I'm concerned. That's an order, DiNozzo. That clear enough for you?"

Gibbs didn't wait for the answer that Tony was incapable of giving. He banged his fist on the elevator button, opening the doors, striding through them into the bullpen.

Tony didn't follow him; he stood motionless, stunned by the force of Gibbs' rage. No way could he go to his desk and act as if nothing had happened. He'd have to face Ziva and McGee, neither of whom had any idea of the crap that was playing out between Gibbs and himself, and he simply couldn't do it. No assuming his usual role of class clown for him today; the mask would never stay in place. No way. Ziva would home in on him with all the accuracy of a guided missile, searching for any weak spot in his defenses. Hell, he didn't even have any defenses today. All barriers were down, Gibbs' fury still carving its way through his brain, the memory of his words slicing through Tony's desire to say something – hell, anything – to put this whole God awful mess right. And his inability to think of anything that could possibly do that.

He banged the doors shut and took the elevator down to the parking garage, heading for his car, a refuge until he could get himself back together enough to return to the bullpen. Yanking open the door, he slumped in the driver's seat, his head falling back against the headrest. He wiped his hand over his face, caustic tears spiking the back of his eyes.

How the hell had it come to this between Gibbs and himself?

"Because you're a Grade A screw-up, DiNozzo. That's why". Tony closed his eyes.

His thoughts went back to that evening, nearly two months ago. He'd gone to Gibbs' house, ostensibly to discuss progress on a recent case. That had been what he told himself, anyway. In reality, he was responding to a certain tension, an undeniable frisson that had been ricocheting around between Gibbs and himself.

It started a few months after he returned from his stint as Agent Afloat on the Seahawk. Round about the same time, he noticed Gibbs eyeing him up sometimes and, unusually for him, he had no idea what the looks signified. He used to think he knew what every one of Gibbs' looks meant, whether they were angry, amused, exasperated, whatever. But these looks of measured appraisal, as if Gibbs was trying to suss something out about him, baffled him.

Tony remembered when the thought first occurred to him that Gibbs might be interested in sleeping with him. Something about the way Gibbs had been looking at him seemed…well, sexual. That was what his gut was telling him. His head was telling him something entirely different. No way could Gibbs be interested in him. Gibbs was straight, for God's sake. Poker down the spine straight. So was Tony.

On some subconscious level, however, Tony picked up on the signals that Gibbs was giving out. There was nothing obvious; certainly nothing when anyone else was around. It was in the way Gibbs looked at him, maybe a little longer than was necessary. The way Gibbs eyed him up and down when he arrived in new pants, ones that were tight-fitting around his ass. The way Gibbs stood closer to him than usual, although he'd always been something of a personal space invader, but because he was Gibbs nobody seemed to mind. But now Tony could feel Gibbs' breath on his neck when he stood behind him to look at what Tony had on his monitor, and it made Tony shiver a little, and in a good way.

So whatever it was that made Tony go to Gibbs' house that night, he knew it wasn't really to discuss the case. He went there to see what would happen. Tony didn't think about it, didn't analyse it. Afterwards, he realised that he was driven by pure sexual need, even if he hadn't acknowledged it beforehand.

After Gibbs shoved him up against the wall of his basement and kissed him senseless, Tony wasn't so sure that he was straight anymore. Or that Gibbs was, either. What the hell…??

That was what he said to Gibbs, once he could breathe and speak again at the same time. His mouth tingling after the kiss, his lips still feeling Gibbs' mouth on them.

"What the hell, Gibbs? What was that?"

"Hell, DiNozzo. If I have to explain kissing to you…" Gibbs sounded amused, but there was a certain wariness in his face.

"But why?" That sounded a stupid question once he'd said it. The fact that he was saying stupid things wasn't surprising, though, seeing as his brain didn't seem to be able to think straight, no pun intended, after Gibbs' kiss.

"Because I wanted to kiss you. I want to go to bed with you as well. Have done for a while now. That clear enough for you, DiNozzo?"

Tony was stunned. "Thought you were straight, Boss".

"Not that straight, apparently". Gibbs sighed, looked away. Tony didn't think he'd ever seen him look this vulnerable. Vulnerable wasn't part of Gibbs' usual repertoire of facial expressions. He didn't know what to say next.

He didn't have to say anything. Gibbs closed the gap between them and although Tony had the chance to move away, he didn't. Gibbs pulled him close and kissed him again. Tony sank into it like he was never going to have a mouth on his ever again. He didn't know a kiss could be this mind-blowing.

What was it? Was it the rasp of stubble against his skin? The taste of coffee mixed with bourbon on Gibbs' breath? The knowledge that it was a man – a hard, muscular, hairy male, and his boss as well – with his tongue probing Tony's mouth?

Whatever it was, Tony now knew for sure the meaning behind the looks Gibbs had been giving him.

Gibbs wanted him in his bed.

The question was - what did Tony want?

Tony didn't really think too much about that. Thinking was kind of difficult when Gibbs was kissing him so expertly. He'd never been kissed by a man before. That thing with Voss/Amanda didn't count. He'd never thought men would be on his sexual radar. But this was different. This was Gibbs. And it felt right.

How had they got to this point? They had worked together for years, yet somehow the dynamic between them had evolved over time, into this. This urgent, overwhelming need that Tony suddenly felt to have Gibbs fuck him and which Gibbs obviously felt too.

Things moved fast after that. Gibbs led Tony upstairs, into his bedroom. He started to undress him, Tony following his lead, pulling off Gibbs' clothes with a kind of desperation. Gibbs felt like his only chance of water in one hell of a scorching desert and he wanted to quench his thirst, the thirst he didn't realise until then that he had. He pulled Gibbs towards him and kissed him, grabbing his ass in both hands, pushing their groins together with wanton lust.

Somehow Tony's clothes were all off and thrown on the floor and Gibbs was pushing him down on the bed with one hand, reaching into his nightstand drawer with the other. He pulled out the lube.

Tony felt a cold wetness against his asshole as Gibbs pushed his fingers, slick with lube, inside him, stretching him – Jeez, that felt good! - and although he'd never done it before, right then it was all he could think of, all he wanted. He didn't care if it hurt. He needed Gibbs inside him.

Gibbs didn't disappoint him. He drove his cock up into him hard and Tony cried out in ecstasy, finding out that it didn't hurt after all. His ecstasy intensified as Gibbs carried on thrusting and soon they were both sated, collapsing in a sweaty mess on the bed, panting. They spent the rest of the night doing a lot more of the same and much of the next two months in bed whenever they could.

It had been so good. It had been awesome.

And Tony had ruined it.

Not only had he fucked up his relationship with Gibbs, but it looked like his job was pretty much shafted as well. The best job, with the best boss, he'd ever had. Compared to Peoria, Philadelphia and Baltimore, and the bosses he'd had in those jobs, what he had at NCIS was everything the other jobs, the other bosses, weren't. Gibbs might well be a bastard to work for, but he was a bastard that Tony could respect. He pushed him hard, didn't tolerate any crap, but, boy, had Tony learned a lot underneath him.

The knowledge that he could get a sought after foreign posting if he wanted did nothing to make up for the bitter knowledge that Gibbs had ordered him to leave DC. And that he wanted him out of his life. For good. The worst thing was that Tony suspected that there may not be a damn thing that he could do to change Gibbs' mind.

He looked at his watch. Shit. He'd been down here longer than he'd realised, awash with the memories, his cock hard at the thought of that first time with Gibbs. Time to get back to work, face the rest of the team, face Gibbs, although God only knew how. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself, get ready to become Tony DiNozzo, master of the joke, the innuendo, the laugh.

When really inside he felt like crap. More like master of the almighty screw-up, the self-loathing, the "you'll never amount to anything" refrain that he frequently heard in his head in his father's contemptuous voice.

He couldn't put it off any longer. "Best get it over with, DiNozzo", he told himself.

Going back into the building, he took the elevator up to the bullpen and strode out in what he hoped was his best DiNozzo swagger, slinging his backpack down by his desk. Gibbs, he noted, was nowhere to be seen.

"Morning, Tony". Ziva greeted him, grinning flirtatiously, with what Tony presumed she thought was a sexy look. It wasn't, as far as he was concerned. He didn't give a toss and he sure as hell wasn't in the mood. When he didn't reply, her grin grew wider. She clearly had the scent of blood where Tony was concerned. "Mmmm…someone has had a bad weekend, no?"

"Leave it, Ziva". He hoped like hell she'd do just that, without any expectation that she would. Rescue came for Tony at that moment, but it was like finding himself in the hottest part of the fire and wishing he was back in the relative comfort of a sizzling frying pan. Because at that moment Gibbs strode back into the bullpen.

He swept straight past Tony without a glance.

"Grab your gear, everyone. We've got a case".

Peachy, just peachy, thought Tony wearily. It was probably a good thing though; it did give him a legitimate reason not to go and see Vance right away. He didn't think he could. Not right then.

"Where are we going, Boss?" asked McGee.

"Tidal Basin. Someone found a dead Marine. Stabbed".


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Some of you have asked when we'll find out why Gibbs is so mad at Tony. All will be revealed, but not for a while yet!**

**Chapter Two**

The dead Marine's body was sprawled on the grass down at the Tidal Basin, on a carpet of petals blown down from the row of Japanese cherry trees. It was the Cherry Blossom Festival in DC and the colour of soft pink was everywhere.

A knife blade protruded from the Marine's chest. Blood that had soaked onto his T-shirt and a slash in the fabric showed he'd been stabbed in the stomach as well.

"No need to ask me the cause of death, Jethro, not with this one".

"Time of death, Duck?"

"I'll know more when I get him back, but based on liver temperature I'd say about nine hours ago. Which puts the time of death at about eleven last night".

"Body discovered this morning by that hotdog vendor over there", said Gibbs. "DiNozzo, go take his statement. McGee, photographs. Ziva, bag and tag". DiNozzo was good at talking to people, he told himself; he'd be the best one to question the stall owner. Nothing to do with the fact that he wanted DiNozzo as far away from himself as possible.

Ducky pointed at the Marine's chest, where the knife protruded.

"What do you make of that, Jethro?"

"Dunno at this stage, Duck. Sure looks like someone really had it in for the Marine Corps, or this Marine in particular". Gibbs bent down to look closer at what surrounded the knife blade in the man's chest.

The knife was skewering a piece of paper in place. Photocopied onto the paper was the emblem of the US Marine Corps, about six inches wide in size, the blade slicing through the anchor, globe and eagle. Handwritten neatly underneath in black capitals were the words SEMPER FI.

"Who is he, Jethro?"

"Non-commissioned officer, name of Ryan Haslar", replied Gibbs. "McGee'll find out more later. Identified from his driver's license in his wallet".

"Robbery wasn't the motive, then", said McGee.

Gibbs' fuse was particularly short that morning after the scene with DiNozzo. He rounded on McGee, who turned pale and backed away. Gibbs let him have it, full force.

"Ya think, McGee? Since when does your average mugger carry photocopies of the Marine Corps emblem around, ready to stick on his next victim?"

"R..right, Boss" was the stuttered reply. McGee's cheeks were now flushed; he looked down at the dead Marine, anywhere rather than at his irate boss. Gibbs took pity on him a little. "What do you see here, McGee?"

McGee cleared his throat nervously. "Looks like he may have been killed elsewhere and dumped here. There's no sign of a struggle, no blood trail, no blood spatter. Also, the body is right by the side of the road. I'd say he may have been pushed or dragged from a vehicle". He looked warily at Gibbs as if expecting another chewing out.

"That's good, McGee. Ziva, you notice anything else?"

Ziva was silent for a while, looking critically at Haslar's body.

"Sometime today would be good", spat out Gibbs. If his team kept on like this, there'd be a second murder committed before long, and any half decent court would let him off on the grounds of extreme provocation.

"There's no blood on the paper around the chest wound", said Ziva. "You can see the emblem quite clearly. Assuming the killer stabbed him through the stomach first to wound him, before going in for the heart, it would be too difficult to hold a piece of paper in place whilst he stabbed him. So I think the paper was placed there after Haslar was killed. Perhaps he bled out somewhere else from the stomach wound, and then the killer placed the paper on his chest and stabbed through it".

"You find anything useful from the bag and tag?"

"Usual stuff, candy bar wrappers and so on, but probably nothing that was left by the killer, Gibbs", Ziva replied. "Could support McGee's idea that the body was dumped here". She looked up. A figure was approaching. "Let's see what Tony has got, if anything".

Gibbs bent down and pretended to be scrutinizing the paper on Haslar's chest as Tony came up. If he could avoid looking Tony in the eye or having much contact with him until he transferred out, then he would. He pushed down the overwhelming anger towards his senior agent that was surging up from his gut, threatening to choke him.

"Didn't get anything useful from the hotdog man. He found the body, called it in, but that's it. He didn't see anything. Nobody else was around." Tony's voice sounded like it might crack; there was a guarded note in it. He addressed his remarks to nobody in particular and didn't look at Gibbs.

Gibbs stood up. "Right, let's get him back and let Ducky and Abby do their work. Not much else we can do here". Ducky and Palmer started to lift the body onto the gurney, and Ziva, McGee and Tony made back towards the truck. Gibbs paused for a moment, surveying the row of cherry trees. A bittersweet memory swam up into his brain.

A sunny weekend morning about two weeks ago. Going for a run through the petal-strewn grass here in the Tidal Basin area, Tony alongside him. Stopping for breakfast burritos at a little café on the way home, ignoring the fact that their clothes were soaked with sweat. Getting back to Gibbs' house, showering off, and then a long delicious morning in bed getting sweaty all over again. Tony's long legs wrapped around his waist as Gibbs thrust into him; hearing his moans of pleasure, his cries of deeper, harder, faster, yeah, Jethro, just there, oh, oh Jeez!

Gibbs gave himself a mental head slap. He started off towards the truck and climbed into the driver's seat. His foul mood meant that they arrived back in a time that Ziva would have found it hard to beat.

Back in the bullpen, McGee pulled up Haslar's Marine records. Aged 22, single, no dependents, resident of DC, lived with his parents, no siblings. His father was an ex-Marine, Gibbs noted. No issues documented on his Naval records; it looked like Haslar was a good, solid Marine.

"McGee, check Haslar's phone records, bank accounts, emails, you know the drill. Ziva, go break the news to Haslar's parents and see what you can find out about him. DiNozzo, go with her". He swept out of the bullpen and down to Autopsy.

Gibbs bent over the body. "What've you got for me, Duck?"

"An interesting one, Jethro, this. The first wound was to the stomach, but it wasn't fatal. Most likely done to wound him so the killer could go in for the death blow to the heart. But do you know what else I found?"

"If I knew, Duck, I wouldn't be here".

"He was stabbed through the heart twice. The really unusual thing is, once was after death. If you look closely, you can see two incision wounds, almost overlapping. I surmise, Jethro – although of course I leave it to you to prove – that the killer struck the fatal blow to the heart. Our unfortunate friend here died. Then the killer stabbed him again. In order to secure our esteemed Marine emblem to his chest".

"Haslar's quite a big guy", remarked Gibbs. "Reckon we're looking for a man rather than a woman here. Our killer right or left handed, Duck?"

"From the way the blows were struck, our man is definitely right-handed, Jethro".

"Time of death confirmed at around eleven last night?"

"Indeed, Jethro. As for the murder weapon, as you'll see when you go visit Abby, it was a common eight inch kitchen knife, straight blade. Cheap plastic handle; you can get one of them at any hardware store in the city. I've sent all the usual samples up to Abby. I'm guessing she's your next stop".

"You guess right, Duck". Gibbs swung round and started towards the exit before Ducky's voice stopped him.

"Jethro, old friend, are you quite alright?"

Gibbs' face assumed a neutral mask as he turned back to face him. "Fine, Duck, fine". He swung back towards the exit before Ducky could say anything else. Damn. With their long years of knowing one another, he should have known he'd find it hard to keep anything from him. Not that he had any intention of sharing what had happened with DiNozzo.

Up in Abby's lab, he plonked a large Caf-Pow beside her. "Talk to me, Abs. What you got?"

"Precious little, Gibbs". Abby twirled round on her stool to face Gibbs. "The knife came up clean for fingerprints and the paper did as well. Both the kitchen knife and the paper are of common makes, widely available everywhere".

"You get the tox screen results back yet?"

"Came back completely negative. No blood alcohol, no drugs, zip, zilch. There's no real trace on any of his clothes or his body. Sorry, Gibbsman, there's not a lot I can tell you with this one".

"Great, just great", Gibbs muttered under his breath. Abby eyed him up.

"You OK there, Gibbs?"

"I'm fine, Abs", Gibbs said abruptly, exiting the lab before she could ask any more questions. He hoped to God that she'd put it down to the case, or too much bourbon the night before, or whatever. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell her anything about DiNozzo.

Gibbs rode the elevator up to the bullpen. "McGee, what've you found?"

"Nothing that can really help us, Boss", replied McGee, moving back slightly when he saw Gibbs' eyes narrow and his boss take a step towards him. "I've checked his phone records for the last six months; calls to his parents, a woman who from his emails appears to be his girlfriend, other Marines. Nothing unusual at all, same with the emails. He's pretty straight financially as well; no abnormal transactions coming up".

Gibbs was silent, studying the picture of Haslar up on the plasma screen. "Anything out of the ordinary in his Marine career, McGee?"

"Nothing there, either, Boss. I spoke with his commanding officer; says Haslar was a good Marine, followed orders, kept his nose out of trouble. No recent arguments with other Marines or anything like that".

"Great, just great", Gibbs said for the second time in five minutes. "We'll have to hope Ziva and DiNozzo come up with something whilst speaking to his parents. We're not catching any breaks on this one so far". With that, he strode off towards the head.

Gibbs stood at the urinal, getting rid of the inevitable effects of several coffees that morning. As he did so, the door swung open and Tony came in.

The two men eyed each other briefly, then Tony walked in and stood at the urinal farthest from Gibbs, not speaking, his face turned away. Gibbs finished up, and moved towards the door, but stopped behind Tony. He spoke to the back of his head, his voice low and feral.

"I need your ass on this case until we crack it. You have until then to decide where you transfer to. Once we've got Haslar's killer, I expect you in Vance's office within the hour". He pulled open the door, and left the head.

Gibbs walked back into the bullpen, where Ziva was sat back at her desk. "How'd it go, Ziva? You get anything useful?"

Ziva shook her head. "Not really. Haslar didn't have any enemies, at least not according to his parents. Who, I grant you, may not be totally objective in the matter. He was their only child, Gibbs. His mother seemed broken. Just sat there. Hardly said a word. We spoke with the father mostly".

"Another Marine", observed Gibbs. "He say anything about his son acting out of character, being in trouble, anything like that?"

"Nothing. They said their son was happy, enjoying life in the Marines, no problems, financial or otherwise. Not that they knew of, anyway".

As Ziva was speaking, Gibbs saw Tony walk back into the bullpen to sit at his desk.

"Haslar have a girlfriend? McGee seems to think so, from his emails".

"Just got engaged, apparently. Name of Lauren James. The father spoke highly of her; apparently it had been expected for a while. Everyone was pretty happy about it".

"Go talk to the girlfriend. See what you can find".

Ziva picked up her backpack. "On my way, Gibbs, but I doubt she's your killer. I saw a photo of her with Haslar, and she's tiny, maybe five three at most, size two or thereabouts. No way would she have the strength to do that to him".

"Go anyway. See what you can find out about Haslar's state of mind, whether they'd rowed recently, Christ, anything at all". Gibbs ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he perched on the side of his desk, avoiding looking at Tony. He addressed his comments to McGee.

"OK, let's sum up here. A dead Marine. No known enemies or motive for his murder. No financial problems, nothing unusual found so far in his private life. No prints on the murder weapon or anywhere else and no trace or tox results from Abby. No witnesses and as far as we can tell, he probably wasn't killed at the dump site. Jeez, give me a break". Gibbs slammed his hand down on his desk.

McGee, spoke, his voice hesitant as he sensed the barely damped down tension in Gibbs.

"What do you make of the emblem pinned to his chest, Boss?"

"The killer's trying to tell us something, McGee. Although God only knows what it is". Gibbs sighed. "We already know he's a Marine; it's not saying anything we don't know. Ducky says it was stuck onto his chest post mortem, quite deliberately".

"What next, Boss?"

"Keep checking what you can, McGee. Find out what websites he visited, check out his background from birth onwards, check his parents…anything you can look at, you do so, OK? DiNozzo", Gibbs barked, turning towards Tony, but not looking at him, "talk to Haslar's fellow Marines, get a handle on his routine, his likes, dislikes, that sort of thing".

The usual "On it, Boss!" never came. Tony nodded briefly before turning round to his computer without making any reply. Gibbs saw McGee's puzzled gaze flick between Tony and himself, then rest back on his uncharacteristically silent teammate.

When she returned, Ziva reported that the girlfriend seemed genuinely devastated at her fiancé's death; they hadn't had a fight recently and anyway she had a cast iron alibi for the time of the murder. The rest of the day didn't get any better for the investigation. All enquiries and searches turned up nothing, other than to confirm that Haslar was a regular guy with no known enemies.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair. It had been a long day, and they hadn't got anything remotely useful that would help them nail Haslar's killer. Unless they caught a lucky break, he had no idea where they could go from here.

Frustrated, and feeling he might explode if he didn't get out of NCIS, Gibbs sent the team home and headed off himself. Hell, maybe he was getting too old for all this crap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Back home in the refuge of his basement, Gibbs got to work on his boat, hoping that the rhythmic sanding of the timber would calm him, as it so often did when the stresses of the job got to him. But what he needed comfort for now was far more than a mere bad day at work. Inevitably his thoughts came back to Tony.

He told himself that he'd known from the start that it was madness to get involved in a relationship with DiNozzo. But the long months that Tony had spent on board the Seahawk had made Gibbs realise, with painful clarity, how much he missed him. When he saw him again, in Cartagena, it had only been the fact that Ziva had been with him that stopped him crushing Tony in a huge bear hug. With hindsight, Gibbs thought that it had probably been then that his feelings for Tony started.

He thought back to the months after Tony came back to the team, months spent trying to push down his growing attraction to him, pretending that it didn't exist. It didn't work. Desire only increased with denial. His attraction swelled into rampant lust, to the point where he craved, yes, craved, Tony. And he no longer cared if it was madness to get involved with him.

Back then, he'd thought that Tony was straight; there had never been any suggestion that he swung both ways.

But Gibbs knew that what was on the surface didn't always indicate what lay beneath. He himself was no stranger to sex with men, although such liaisons were infrequent, yet nobody knew that. But he'd never wanted a man with the intensity that he wanted Tony. Gibbs couldn't explain it to himself, but he reckoned it was more than just the fact that Tony was drop dead gorgeous. He suspected it was because under the cocky frat boy exterior, he knew that Tony was insecure, vulnerable, feared rejection. And that aroused Gibbs' protective instincts; he wanted to rescue Tony from his insecurities, give him a solid base of love – yes, love – to grow and move on from.

In the end he could hold himself back no longer. The swollen dam had to burst. Gibbs, the master of self-control, the one for whom any of the more tender emotions were kept firmly in check, shoved Tony up against the wall of his basement and kissed him with all the pent-up passion he'd been holding back. Part of him couldn't believe that Tony didn't push him away, but he didn't; instead, after some initial hesitation, he returned Gibbs' kiss, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him as close as possible.

Tony told Gibbs that he'd never been with a man before. Gibbs had felt a certain primeval satisfaction in knowing that he would be the first, since Tony made it very clear that, although he was surprised at being pounced on by Gibbs, it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all, it seemed. The thought flashed through Gibbs' brain, as he started to pull Tony's clothes off in the bedroom, as to whether Tony would only want a one-off, but he pushed it aside. Right then, he knew he'd take whatever he could get of Tony.

Lying next to him, sticky and sweaty after their love-making (for that was what it was to Gibbs, not just fucking), he decided not to say anything about it happening again. He didn't want to push things, scare Tony off, mention anything that smacked of commitment, long-term, all the things that could make Tony nervous. Perhaps if they started off casually, nothing too heavy, things would evolve into something more…permanent. He reminded himself that it was Tony's first time with a man and he had no idea what Tony thought about that.

Tony enlightened him.

"Always wondered what it would be like with a man". His fingers traced patterns in Gibbs' chest hair, rubbing slowly over hardened nipples. "Glad the first time was with you, Boss. Never realised it would feel like that, you know, when you were inside me? God, Gibbs, when you hit that spot, up there…it was incredible. Came like I don't think I've ever come before, really hard, Boss".

He pulled Gibbs down to him for a kiss. "Course, you did have your hand on my cock at the same time…" He grinned his radiant Tony smile; it reached all the way to his eyes, and Gibbs felt his insides tighten.

Next day when they were both in work, everything seemed like it normally did. Gibbs had always known that Tony had his public image; the carefree frat boy womanizer. The image was there as per usual and had he not known what they had shared the night before, he would never have detected any difference in Tony. He was grateful for that; he'd never choose to publicize his love life at work. Especially not the fact that he'd had sex with a male subordinate.

Towards the end of the day, however, the dynamic changed. Gibbs was in the elevator, heading down to Abby's lab. As the doors opened to her floor, Tony stepped in. He looked at Gibbs, and then moved slightly closer to him. By now the doors had swished shut, but the elevator didn't move as Tony hadn't pressed any buttons. He spoke softly, so only Gibbs could hear, although there was nobody around.

"Your place tonight, Boss?" He looked a little edgy, and Gibbs realised that he feared a knockback. "I can bring Tex-Mex takeout, if you supply the beer?" Gibbs suppressed the urge to grab him and kiss him, hard. Instead, the corner of his mouth twitched up into a grin, and he nodded. "Seven o'clock, Tony".

Seven o'clock arrived and with it came Tony, laden with various cartons, all smelling good. As did Tony himself, clearly freshly showered and shaved. Gibbs hoped it was for his benefit; he had showered and changed as well.

They ate quickly, making no reference to the events of the previous night. It was only after they had finished and Gibbs was stacking the dirty plates in the sink that Tony made his move. He came up behind Gibbs, turning him round for a passionate kiss. Somehow they found themselves upstairs, naked, and getting it on again with each other. Now Gibbs knew for sure that Tony didn't want a one-off. Tony confirmed it when, spooned up in front of him after they had made love for the second time that night, he said "Want more of this, Boss. Want more of you".

They had been together as much as they could after that, and the level of intimacy between them had ratcheted up very quickly. Gibbs found himself able to mention things about Shannon and Kelly to Tony, easily and naturally, something he'd never thought he'd be able to do, even with Ducky. Tony gave him glimpses into what was clearly a cold and lonely childhood, obviously with difficulty at first, but with growing ease as time went on. They kept their relationship a secret, for obvious reasons, but that was how they both wanted it. They felt right together.

And there was the amazing, hotter than red-hot sex they shared. Some nights they'd actually torn each other's clothes in the rush to get naked as soon as possible. Some days he saw Tony wince slightly as he sat down at his desk, and a small smile would curve Gibbs' mouth as he thought back to what had caused that.

And once or twice, especially after they'd had a heavy session of making out, Gibbs would see such passion and trust in Tony's expression that he felt his stomach clench. They'd not discussed their feelings in any way; neither man was into all that. But Gibbs had started to believe that Tony could, and did, reciprocate his own growing feelings that were turning into love.

Gibbs sighed. How could they go from that to the present frigid standoff? What had made Tony screw it all up so badly? What had made him do what he'd done, say what he had said? The effect of which had been to make Gibbs feel as if Tony had slammed a kitchen knife into his gut and into his heart, as some unknown killer had done to Ryan Haslar?

Sanding the boat wasn't having its usual soothing effect. The bourbon that he'd sunk wasn't helping either. He looked at his watch. Eleven o'clock. He planned to be in at six the next day to see if they could crack the Haslar case. Time for bed.

Gibbs slept badly and arrived at NCIS the next morning in an even fouler mood.

He took his anger out on the team, mainly Ziva and McGee, but that was because he wanted to keep his interaction with Tony to a bare minimum. By the time the morning was over, his other two agents looked like they intended to apply for a transfer as well as Tony. Gibbs' eyes may have been weak, but his hearing wasn't. As he walked to the elevator, he heard Ziva say to McGee, "What is the matter with Gibbs these days? He's like a bear with a sore nose".

"Head, Ziva", corrected McGee. "The expression is bear with a sore head. Tony, you done something to annoy the Bossman?" The elevator doors closed behind Gibbs before he could hear any more. He headed down to Abby's lab to check if she had any results for him. He'd had her rerun all the tests and although he knew she wasn't best pleased at having her work questioned, she had done so without comment, sensing his foul mood.

The visit proved abortive; the new tests came up with exactly the same results as before. Thankfully Abby refrained from asking whether he was OK this time; they had always had a certain connection and he could tell that she knew that she needed to back off. Gibbs stomped back upstairs to the bullpen, where he had everyone rerun all the checks and searches they'd already done, as well as go through all the notes they'd taken when speaking with Haslar's family, friends and associates.

The next few days brought no progress, either with the case or Gibbs' temper. It looked increasingly like this was going to become an unsolved crime, and in time, a cold case. They simply had nothing to go on that could lead to Haslar's killer.

The situation between himself and Tony remained strained to the limit, with Gibbs only addressing Tony when necessary and Tony transformed from a man with unrivalled verbal skills into what he had once called Gibbs, a functioning mute. Gibbs couldn't bring himself to smile at the irony in that.

He knew that the others had picked up on the change in Tony; his own foul mood they obviously wrote off as him being Gibbs, only more so, but he knew they were concerned about Tony. He caught Ziva and McGee talking about it when Tony was in the head; he overheard Abby and Ducky discussing it in Autopsy. If he hadn't been so unapproachable right then, he didn't doubt they'd have tackled him about it, asked him what he thought was up with Tony. Thankfully he was spared that.

It didn't matter anyway. One way or another, DiNozzo would soon be history at the Naval Yard. And that could only be a good thing all round.

It was the morning of the fourth day after the murder, the atmosphere in the bullpen tense, tempers short. Then Gibbs' phone rang.

"Where? What time?" A pause. Then, "You sure about that? You absolutely sure?" Gibbs' voice grew louder as he stood up, reaching for his gear. He slammed his cell phone shut.

"Get your stuff. We've another dead Marine. Anacostia Park. Stabbed through the heart, like Haslar. With the Marine Corps emblem on his chest. Looks like we have a serial killer on the loose".


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"OK, what have we got?" asked Gibbs. They were back at NCIS after collecting the body from Anacostia Park, looking at the Marine's face on the plasma screen. Tony was deliberately standing as far away from Gibbs as he could. Right now his boss was dynamite topped with Semtex and a detonator as far as Tony was concerned.

"Jake Green, aged 27", said McGee. "Another non-commissioned Marine, local to DC. Married, but recently separated. Wife in Seattle staying with her parents at the time of the murder. No children, both parents dead, one brother in Los Angeles".

"Found stabbed in exactly the same way as Haslar", observed Ziva. "With the Marine Corps emblem on his chest, Semper Fi written underneath, with a knife through it. Has Ducky confirmed that it was placed there after death, like Haslar?"

Tony saw Gibbs nod. "First strike to the stomach again, then the fatal blow to the heart. Then another stab to pin the paper with the emblem in place. This could be why we didn't find anything in Haslar's background to explain his murder. It was not a personal thing against him".

"This guy has a downer on Marines for some reason", Tony ventured.

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' reply was thick with sarcasm. "McGee, do the usual with Green's phone records. Cross check with Haslar to see if there's any link. Do the same with his bank statements, emails. Hell, you know what to do. Ziva, background checks, look into Green's life to date, get hold of his ex-wife".

Tony saw Gibbs turn and walk towards the elevator and felt his chest tighten. Gibbs was going to leave without assigning him anything.

Then Gibbs barked out, "DiNozzo, get talking to Green's commanding officer and his fellow Marines". He turned back round to face his team. "By the end of today I want you three to have come up with something that links these two men. We find that link, we're closer to finding the killer. I'm going to see what Abby has come up with". He banged open the elevator doors and disappeared. Tony felt the tightness loosen a little.

"God help us if we don't find something", said McGee. "What is it with Gibbs these days? I've never seen him quite this bad".

"I do not know, McGee", replied Ziva. "He was fine – well, as fine as Gibbs ever is – until just before the Haslar case. Now he is simply unbearable". She spun round, eyeing Tony. Her smile reminded him of a cat toying with its prey. "Of course, Gibbs is not the only one around here who has been – shall we say – a little difficult to work with recently". She perched on the edge of Tony's desk. "What is it with you, Tony? One of your love interests turn you down? You losing your touch?"

"Can it, Ziva. We'd all - and that includes you - better get on with what Gibbs wants".

Tony didn't look at Ziva; he couldn't deal with her baited comments today. He wasn't sleeping well and as for eating, he'd been grabbing what he could, when he could, in between avoiding Gibbs and working on the case. He felt like crap, sheer crap. He turned to his computer to get the phone numbers that he needed. Life sucked, really sucked right now. He got his head down to make some calls, blocking out Ziva and McGee.

Gibbs was gone a long time. Tony suspected that as well as seeing Abby about the results, he was taking refuge down there, hanging out with her in order to get away from the lack of progress on the case. And also to avoid me, probably, he thought bitterly. Can't blame him for that.

Eventually, Gibbs swung back into the bullpen. "Abby's got nothing. No trace on the body, no fingerprints on the knife or the paper. Knife and paper both common ones like before".

"Tox screens all come back OK?" asked McGee.

"Yeah. Green had been drinking before his death, but his blood alcohol levels weren't unusual; consistent with a couple of beers. I'm getting her to rerun the tests but it won't make any difference". Gibbs ran his fingers through his hair, frustration shadowing his face.

"I've spoken with the soon to be ex-wife", said Ziva. "She left Green when she found out he'd been having an affair with a friend of hers. She's been in Seattle with her parents for the last month. Alibi sounds rock solid, although I'm getting it checked out. We're not looking for a woman anyway, are we?"

"Doubtful, unless she happens to have the same skill set as you", replied Gibbs. "The force of the blows, and the size of the two victims, point to a man. But check out the woman he was having the affair with, anyway. What did you find when you looked into his background? Anything we can use?"

"He was clean, like Haslar", replied Ziva. "Good college record, nothing out of the ordinary, excelled at sports, never been in trouble of any kind".

"McGee!"

McGee jumped. "Yes, Boss?"

"You got anything for me? Anything we can use? Tell me you got something".

"Sorry, Boss, that is, I didn't mean to say I'm sorry, I know you think it's a sign of weakness…"

"McGee, if you don't say something useful in the next five seconds you will regret it for the rest of your life, which is shortening rapidly". Gibbs' voice was low and controlled, loaded with menace. McGee swallowed quickly, took in a sharp breath.

"Nothing usual in his phone records, emails or computer activity. He's in a bit of a mess financially, overdrawn on his checking account, some credit cards bills; looks like they were mostly run up dating the other woman – restaurants, flowers and so on. But only a few thousand dollars and he was paying it off".

"Any calls to or from Haslar? Any phone numbers or emails in common? Christ, McGee, give me something here", growled Gibbs. McGee shook his head.

"No link at all, Boss. Nothing at all. The two men have never served together. Doesn't seem like they even knew each other. Signed up at different times, served under different men".

"DiNozzo. Whatcha got". Gibbs' voice was flat. He continued to look at the plasma screen.

"Blank here as well. His commanding officer says he was a good Marine, had a bit of a reputation for being hot-headed, impulsive, but nothing that got him into any trouble". Tony shifted in his seat; Gibbs' refusal to look at him was unnerving. "He gave me the names of other Marines who'd served with him recently. Managed to get hold of a few of them, they confirm that Green was a good enough guy, competent at his job. Gonna talk to any others I can get hold of".

"You do that, DiNozzo". Gibbs went back to his desk.

Tony spent the rest of the day speaking with any Marines he could locate who had known Green, checking whether there was any link with Haslar, double checking everything in case he missed something. He came up with nothing. As did Ziva and McGee.

He went home that day with a thumping headache. He found some cold pizza in his fridge from two days ago, bolted down a couple of slices and gulped a few mouthfuls of beer. He'd not eaten since breakfast that day and his stomach was growling; with Gibbs in the mood that he was, none of the team had dared to take any time out for lunch.

He slumped down on the couch, swigging beer. He badly wanted to get blind drunk, in an attempt to forget the gut-wrenching pain he'd felt for days now. Ever since that night in Gibbs' basement, when Gibbs had thrown him out of his house and ended their relationship, he'd felt like a hand was twisting his insides into ever tighter knots. He knew, without Gibbs having to tell him, what an almighty mess he'd made of things and of his life. From where he sat right now, he'd lost his lover and was being made to change his job, which would mean moving away from DC, the city that he'd come to call home.

And none of those things were what he wanted. He knew now, only too painfully, what Leroy Jethro Gibbs meant to him, and what he'd thrown away, and he wasn't sure if he could bear the loss. Gibbs had been his mentor and his rock for years before becoming his lover. He supplied stability and security, which Tony had always leaned on and now realised were as necessary to him as food and water. Without Gibbs, he was nothing.

"You stupid, stupid, fuck-up", he told himself quietly. He hurled the beer bottle across the room, heard it shatter and watched as the trickles of brown liquid ran down the wall.

He thought back to the early days of his relationship with Gibbs.

When they first started out, Tony couldn't quite believe what had happened between him and Gibbs. That they were lovers, and exclusive ones at that, after years of having a purely work-based relationship. But, oh, sweet Jesus, the sex was fantastic, and if he'd known how incredible it felt to be with a man, he'd have done a hell of a lot more of it before. And he'd meant what he said when he told Gibbs that he was glad the first time was with him.

Tony thought about his feelings about the whole gay thing. At the start, he'd found it difficult to reconcile in his mind the fact that he was involved with a man. It was very much at odds with his image of himself as the ultimate ladies' man, the player. Truth be told, though, it wasn't as if he suddenly started fancying men in general. The thought of sex with McGee, Palmer or Vance did nothing for him at all. It seemed that it was Gibbs alone who had this effect on him.

He'd always had a thing for blue eyes, and Gibbs's eyes were like chunks of sapphire shot through with tanzanite. There were the lop-sided grins, rarely seen by others but which Tony was treated to quite a lot over the weeks since they first went to bed. The silver hair, which Tony knew did strange things to Abby and now he could understand why. Suddenly silver was sexy. And Gibbs had a body that was in mighty fine shape. Tony knew, as he'd explored pretty much every bit of it.

For those first few weeks, Tony revelled in the stellar sex that he and Gibbs had. They saw each other most nights, especially at the weekends. He remembered his amazement at how adventurous Gibbs was in the bedroom. Prior to their affair, he'd have said Gibbs was probably quite prudish in bed, and most definitely vanilla in his tastes. That hadn't proved the case at all. Oh no.

They'd had sex in every position that they could think of, and experimented with some things that would definitely fall into Abby's definition of hinky and kinky. Tony didn't think he would ever look at Gibbs' handcuffs in quite the same way again. He had to admit, he had never been bored in bed with Gibbs.

Tony thought back to the whole handcuffs thing. It had come as no surprise to him that Gibbs preferred to take the lead in bed, liked to be quite rough and dominant with him. With women, Tony had always been the one to take the lead but he didn't even think about doing that with Gibbs; he was so used to obeying him at work that it seemed natural to do so in bed. Gibbs acted as if that was understood, as if it was so obvious that it couldn't be any different. And Tony had to admit to himself, he preferred it that way. It satisfied some deep-seated need within him, which, like the whole gay thing, he hadn't even been aware that he had.

That didn't mean that Tony didn't get to fuck Gibbs, however, something he was more than eager to do. But even then, Gibbs was in control, usually straddling his cock as Tony lay handcuffed to the bed. Tony loved it. Used as he was to fucking women, he needed to feel his cock in a tight hole from time to time.

He'd never thought he would actually ever experience male sex but now that he had, he knew that he preferred it to sex with women. Maybe it was Gibbs who'd done that to him, but he'd never had such good sex, come so hard or so often. He'd had the best of both worlds, he thought; a hard cock thrusting into his ass, but a hot hole to fuck as well. And he'd also had Gibbs' thick, luscious cock to play with.

There was also the strong mental connection with Gibbs. He'd known and respected the man for years, saved his life and had his own saved by Gibbs more than once. They had forged an incredibly tight bond and the sex had escalated that to a whole new level.

How could he have been so stupid, such an idiot? For someone who had the best of both worlds, he thought, he sure had messed it up about as thoroughly as he could.

He sighed. He needed to get to bed, not that he'd sleep much. Sleep these days didn't come until the early hours and even then it was fitful, Tony waking throughout the night and arriving exhausted at work. With the sporadic eating, it was no wonder that he felt like crap.

He was up early the next day and at his desk by seven; Gibbs was already there. He made no acknowledgement as Tony walked in. From Tony's quick glance, he could see that Gibbs looked pretty rough as well. He'd not shaven that morning, coarse grey stubble stippling his chin, and his skin was a bad shade of pale.

He'd been in about half an hour, checking through Haslar and Green's emails for some clue that could crack the case, even though he'd done it several times already. That was when the phone call came. Gibbs' cell phone vibrated into life, its shrill tones grating on Tony's shredded nerves.

The conversation was brief. Gibbs slammed his cell shut and Tony suddenly knew what he was going to say.

"We've got another one. Rock Creek Park. He's struck again".


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Author's note: For those of you curious about what Tony has done, the events that are unfolding in the murder case have a bearing as to when that is revealed. Not long to wait – it will be in Chapter Six.**

Tony stood over the dead Marine's body, taking photographs of it along with the crime scene. Gibbs stood nearby with Ducky.

The medical examiner spoke. "And who is this unfortunate young man, Jethro?"

"Sean O'Donnell", said Gibbs. "Marine, like the other two. Found early this morning by someone out jogging". He looked down at the trademark paper held to the Marine's body by the knife sticking from his chest, the Marine Corps emblem clearly visible, SEMPER FI hand printed underneath.

This was turning out to be the week from hell, thought Gibbs.

"You're going to ask me about the time of death, Jethro", Ducky said. "My best guess at this stage would be about eleven o'clock last night. Same as the first two".

Ziva came up to them, having checked the surrounding area. "Anything, Ziva?" asked Gibbs.

"Not much, Gibbs. A few discarded cigarette butts, a candy bar wrapper, but it is most likely that they will have nothing to do with O'Donnell's murder", was the reply.

"Grab McGee. Let's head back. Sooner we start investigating the better. This guy's escalating. We need to catch him, fast".

Back at the Naval Yard, McGee ran a background check and came up with O'Donnell's details. The dead Marine's face flashed up on the plasma screen.

"Age 26. Another non-commissioned Marine. Resident of DC like the other two. Not married, parents living in Miami, no siblings. Going to start running checks on his phone records and emails now, Boss", said McGee.

"Ziva, DiNozzo, background checks. You know what to do", barked out Gibbs. "I'm going down to see what Abby and Ducky have come up with. Let's hope it's more this time than the first two". With that, he strode towards the elevator.

The morning ground by slowly. Tony dreaded Gibbs coming back to the bullpen; as with the other dead Marines, they were coming up with nothing useful. Ziva would have to be the one to explain that to Gibbs, he thought.

"You got anything?" he asked McGee.

"Er...w...well..." McGee stammered.

"Please say you have", groaned Ziva. "I don't want to be the one who has to tell Gibbs that we've come up with nothing".

"OK", said McGee, turning slightly pink, "O'Donnell was gay; probably in the closet, given that he was a Marine. From the websites he'd been browsing, he was into gay porn, but nothing heavy. Didn't look too closely into that, to be honest".

"You got anything besides the porn sites to indicate that he was gay?" asked Tony.

McGee was turning pinker. "Well…" He swallowed. "There were numerous calls to gay chat lines. He spent quite a lot of time and money on those. There were also his emails. He'd been sleeping with a couple of guys at the same time, judging by what I read. The content was…er…quite graphic. Didn't look like either of his guys knew about the other".

"We need to check them out", said Tony.

"Already done, Tony", replied McGee. "One guy went on duty at the Marine Corps base in Hawaii the week before O'Donnell's murder. The other man is a civilian. From the emails, looks like he flew up to New York on business two days ago. Doesn't look like either one is our guy".

"So O'Donnell was gay. Great", said Ziva, throwing up her hands in frustration. "The other two were straight – one engaged, the other separated. We need something that ties all three together".

"Can't find any link between the three men at all, other than that they were all Marines and DC residents, but that doesn't supply a motive", McGee replied.

"We're drawing a blank again here", said Ziva. Her timing couldn't have been worse.

"Not what I want to hear, Officer David", snarled Gibbs as he walked back in. "Damn it, you three stooges must have come up with something – hell, anything – that links these men whilst I've been down there?"

Silence met his outburst. Gibbs slammed his fist on his desk. "Abby has nothing either. No fingerprints, no DNA, sweet nothing. We need to crack this. Get back to it. Find me something".

Whilst McGee filled Gibbs in on what they had come up with on O'Donnell's background, Tony resumed the checks he'd been making, made some calls. Before long, Gibbs went upstairs to brief Vance on the progress, or lack of it, on the investigation. Tony hoped like hell he wasn't planning on telling the director that he'd be requesting a transfer. He didn't think he would; Gibbs was totally focussed on the case, and Tony got the impression that he was way down Gibbs' priority list.

Something was nagging at Tony, an intuitive sense he couldn't shake off. Working with Gibbs for so long had showed him the value of trusting his gut, following his instincts. And Tony had had a gut feeling niggling at him ever since he went with Ziva to speak with Haslar's parents.

Haslar's father had been a stereotypical, steel rod down the spine, military man, ex-Marine, who had done most the talking. His wife had said little and when she did start to speak, her husband had interrupted her, talked over her. Easy to see who rules the roost there, thought Tony.

At the time Tony had thought that she wanted to tell him something about her son. Every time she started to speak, though, her control freak of a husband broke in and steered the conversation back to what he'd been saying. Could be Franklin Haslar was merely stopping her from coming out with stuff that wasn't relevant. But then he thought back to Mrs Haslar. Clearly distraught, there was also something in her face as she showed the two agents out of the house that betrayed a certain inner struggle, a wish to say something. He wished he'd pursued it at the time, but with Franklin Haslar stood behind his wife, a controlling hand on her shoulder, Tony had taken the path of least resistance.

Hell, they weren't getting any breaks anywhere else. It couldn't hurt to try to talk to her, and it would keep him out of Gibbs' hair for a while. He got up and grabbed his backpack.

"Tony, where are you off to? If Gibbs comes back and you're not here…" Ziva said.

"Following up a hunch, Ziva. There sure isn't much action happening here", Tony said over his shoulder as he headed off. He remembered that Franklin Haslar, being retired early through health reasons, had said that he spent most afternoons on the golf course. He reckoned he stood a good chance of catching Mrs Haslar alone, and maybe getting her to speak freely.

He was right. Although Rose Haslar was clearly surprised to see him, and seemed nervous, her husband wasn't home and she let Tony in.

"What can I do for you, Agent DiNozzo? Have you found the man who killed my son?"

Tony shook his head. "I am sorry, Mrs Haslar, we haven't found him as yet. May I speak plainly?"

Mrs Haslar gave him a tired smile. She looked pale and drawn, dark smudges under her eyes pointing to sleepless nights. "Of course".

Tony chose his words carefully. "When I was here before, with Officer David", he said, "we could see how obviously distressed you and your husband were. I feel that we may have rushed through our questions, maybe missed something. I wonder, Mrs Haslar". He paused. "Is there anything that you can think of that we didn't cover? Anything at all?"

Mrs Haslar didn't answer, looking down at her hands in her lap, her cheeks flushing slightly. She seemed to be struggling for an answer.

"Mrs Haslar?" Tony pressed. She looked up at him. He could see tears in her eyes.

"My husband wouldn't like me telling you this", she said slowly. Her fingers played with the hem of her blouse. "He was ashamed of it. Ashamed of our son. After you'd gone, he said that it wasn't relevant anyway, that it was a phase, that Ryan was over it. He was adamant that it was right not to tell you, that it could have no bearing on Ryan's murder". A tear ran down her face, but her voice grew stronger as she spoke.

"You must understand, Agent DiNozzo. My husband is from a long line of Naval men, a proud tradition. We are both devout Christians. He has very firm views on certain matters". She drew a tissue from a nearby box, and wiped her eyes.

"What matters, Mrs Haslar?"

Mrs Haslar flushed again. "This is difficult for me to say, Agent DiNozzo. My son had formed a relationship with…." She paused. "With another man".

"And your husband found out? He disapproved?" asked Tony.

"I did not approve, either. The Bible condemns men being with men. We had always thought that he would marry Lauren. A lovely girl. They had dated since high school. It was a shock, such a shock when we found out. But Ryan was my son, my only child, and I loved him". Tears were coming again; she paused to wipe them away.

"Franklin found out through me, Agent DiNozzo. I found Ryan one day, in his room, here in our home. With a man. Naked. He'd thought neither of us would be back until that evening. My husband was playing golf and I had gone to visit a friend. But I came home early because I had a migraine coming on".

"Tell me what happened when you got home", said Tony.

"They didn't hear me. I went into Ryan's room. He always left it in such a mess. I wanted to get his laundry, get that sorted before going for a lie-down. I walked in and found…" She stopped.

"It's okay, Mrs Haslar", said Tony gently.

"I found Ryan in bed. With a man. I was so shocked. I had no idea".

"What did you do?"

"I ran out of the room, into my bedroom. I heard the man leave. Ryan came knocking on my door. He said that he was sorry that I'd found out that way, but that he…he…" Sobs overwhelmed her and Tony waited until she felt able to go on.

"He said that he loved this man. I couldn't understand it, Agent DiNozzo. He had seemed so happy with Lauren. Franklin and I always thought that they would marry one day, raise a family. How could he love another man? Why wasn't Lauren enough for him?" She choked back a sob.

"And you told your husband", said Tony.

"I had to. Franklin could see how distressed I was. He wouldn't leave it alone until I told him what the matter was. He was furious, Agent DiNozzo. He had a terrible row with Ryan. Said how what he was doing tainted the great Marine tradition of this country, that Ryan had soiled his family's Naval history". She sniffed, blew her nose.

"Anyway, Franklin was furious that Ryan had brought this man into our house, that they'd done what they did, here of all places. I know that this is…was...Ryan's home, but it all seemed so wrong".

"Mrs Haslar", said Tony. "When I came here before, your husband told us that Ryan was engaged to his girlfriend. Officer David interviewed Lauren James and she confirmed this. How did that come about? Did Ryan leave his boyfriend?"

"Yes. We thought he'd seen sense and that it would all be fine between him and Lauren. She never found out about what Ryan had been up to with his…friend. I'm sorry, we never did find out his name. My husband had a very frank discussion with Ryan. He pointed out the damage that being with a man could do to his career in the Marine Corps. He reminded him of the Christian values that we did our best to bring him up with. It wasn't long after that Ryan announced that he'd asked Lauren to marry him". She blew her nose.

Tony felt a shot of sympathy for Ryan Haslar. He'd had Franklin Haslar pegged for an emotional bully the moment he met him – hell, there were distinct similarities between Haslar and his own father. The arrogance, the controlling behaviour, the asshole attitude. He'd bet good money on Ryan Haslar feeling he had no choice but to ditch the boyfriend, conform, do what Franklin Haslar dictated.

"Can you describe your son's male friend, Mrs Haslar?"

She shrugged. "About Ryan's age, I think. Short dark hair. Quite muscular. I never saw him standing up, so I can't say how tall he was. I don't know, Agent DiNozzo. He didn't have any features that made him stand out. He was quite pleasant-looking, I suppose, but just an ordinary man. Except obviously not to Ryan".

"Would you be able to recognize him if you saw him again?"

"Yes. I did get quite a good look at him. Do you think he might be the one who killed Ryan?"

"It's a distinct possibility", Tony replied. "We need at least to find this man and rule him out, if nothing else. Can you tell me anything else about him? Anything at all? Doesn't matter whether you think it is important or not. Just tell me".

She shook her head. "We never knew his name, how Ryan met him, any of the details. We didn't ask, to be honest. Didn't want to know. And then we thought it had all blown over, you know?"

Tony thought. The dead Marine's phone calls and emails had given no indication of his secret lover.

So how had they communicated with each other?

A second cell phone. Had to be. It seemed the only possibility, as Ryan's emails hadn't turned up anything. Probably an unregistered disposable, so that he could keep his lover a secret from everyone, especially his father.

Tony stood up. "Mrs Haslar, would you mind if I took a look in your son's bedroom?" At her nod, Tony went upstairs.

Ziva and he had already looked through Ryan Haslar's room on their previous visit, taking away his laptop, cell phone, etc. But they'd had no reason at that point to do a detailed search; it wasn't a crime scene.

Tony tried to think where, if it existed, the other phone could be. He pictured Ryan Haslar, keeping his boyfriend secret from everyone, probably limited as to when and where he could see him or even talk to him. Phone sex had to be a possibility. He'd start looking near the bed.

He looked under the bed. Zilch. He went through Ryan's nightstand. Nothing there. Nothing in the nearby bookcase, although Tony methodically took out every book, looked behind and under the bookcase.

That left the bed itself as a possibility.

Tony pulled the pillows off, intending to flip over the mattress.

He didn't have to. Resting on the back slat of the bed, under the headboard, behind one of the pillows, lay a cell phone.

"Yessss!" Tony punched the air. Hallelujah, peachy with bells on, hallelujah. Bet there's only one number on that phone, both for calls in and out. And it will be lover boy's. Get it straight back to McNerd and let him work his magic on tracing the number. Gibbs will be well impressed by this, he thought.

Then he remembered.

The sour, unwanted thought punched him in the gut. Gibbs, in his current mood, wouldn't give a toss about Tony's investigative skills; he'd only care that they might have got closer to cracking the case.

And with the end of the case would come the end of Tony's career at the Naval Yard.

A voice echoed in his head.

"Once we've got Haslar's killer, I expect you in Vance's office within the hour".


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Tony bagged the phone and headed back to NCIS. He went first to Abby's lab.

Abby ran over and wrapped him in one of her trademark hugs, squeezing him hard. Tony felt himself going rigid, unable to respond to Abby's liveliness as he normally did. She pulled back and looked at him.

"Are you OK, Tony? You look like crap these days".

Tony gently extricated himself. He tried to joke it off. "Gee, thanks, Abs, you sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself".

Abby eyed him for a moment. "I don't know what's going on here, Tony. You look like you've not slept for a week. Did you shave this morning? Doesn't look like it. Gibbs is even worse". She waved a reproachful finger in the air. "I don't like it when my boys aren't happy bunnies. You gonna tell me what's going on?"

Tony's face shut down, assuming a protective mask. "Nothing, Abs. This case is a bitch, that's all". He handed her the bagged phone. "Can you check this for prints for me?"

"Give me five, Tony boy. You sure you don't want to tell me what's rattling your cage in the meantime? I'm a good listener. Okay", seeing the look that Tony shot her, "I'll shut up now. See, this is Abby, shutting right up". She mimicked zipping her lips together. "But if you do ever want to talk…"

It didn't take Abby long to check the prints on the phone. The only ones on it were Ryan Haslar's.

Best get it up to McGeek, thought Tony. "Gotta go, Abs. Thanks".

Walking back up into the bullpen, he was relieved to see that Gibbs wasn't there.

"Tony! Where have you been? Gibbs was not happy when he got back and you were gone". Ziva eyed the bag that Tony was carrying with the phone. "What have you got there?"

Tony ignored her. "Can you check the calls to and from this, McTech". He passed McGee the cell.

A few minutes later he had the results. "Just one number, Tony, both for incoming and outgoing calls. The number's for an unregistered cell phone, probably a cheap disposable. Lots of calls up to about two weeks before Haslar's murder. Then no calls from this cell to the other one, but lots of incoming calls. The last one made about two hours before the time that Haslar was murdered. Nothing since. Where'd you get this phone, Tony?"

Tony didn't reply, trying to get his thoughts together. Then it came to him. The motive for the other murders. Sweet Jesus. Yeah. That was it. Had to be.

At that moment, the elevator doors swished open and Gibbs came into the bullpen.

He didn't shout at Tony, but Tony knew that his fury was all the more deadly for being kept under tight control. "You'd better have a good reason for sloping off like that, DiNozzo". He slung himself down in his chair at his desk. "And I'd better be hearing it within the next five seconds".

It took Tony the best part of five seconds before he could get his breathing under control and have a vague hope that he'd be able to speak when he opened his mouth. Gibbs in full angry mode was not something to take lightly.

"Gibbs? I…er…"

"For the love of God, DiNozzo!" Gibbs bellowed. "Spit it out, will ya? Where in hell's name have you been?"

Tony found his voice then. "I think I know who killed Haslar and the other two Marines".

That got Gibbs' attention, as he knew it would, along with that of Ziva and McGee. Gibbs stood up slowly, came round the side of his desk and stood in front of it. For the first time since the scene in the elevator, when he'd told Tony to transfer out, he looked directly at him and held his gaze. Tony found it incredibly unnerving but somehow managed not to look away.

"And I think I know why. What the motive is. Why he stabbed the Marine Corps emblem into the victims' chests". He paused, to allow himself to swallow. His mouth felt full of sawdust again and it had everything to do with the intense gaze that Gibbs was piercing him with.

"Go on". Gibbs' voice was quiet now, controlled.

Tony outlined the events of the afternoon and what McGee had found on the phone.

"So Haslar had a secret male lover. And you think whoever it was killed him because Haslar dumped him and went back to his girlfriend?" asked McGee.

"Yeah, that's about it", replied Tony. Gibbs hadn't yet said anything.

"A jealous lover", said Ziva. "Wouldn't be the first time that's happened and it won't be the last. But how does that tie in with the other murders? With the Marine Corps emblem? With the Semper Fi motto?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo", said Gibbs. "How'd you tie all that in?"

"I'm thinking that Haslar's lover is unhinged", replied Tony. "Maybe a history of some mental illness, problems, whatever. Haslar's dumping him pushed him over the edge and he killed him. I'm thinking he's now going after…"

He swallowed again. Talking was difficult with the knot of tension that was stuck in his throat. He turned to look at McGee, unable to bear Gibbs' gaze any longer. "After any Marine who has been unfaithful to a lover, wife, whatever. That's the link with the Marine Corps motto. Semper Fi. Always Faithful. Except that these guys haven't been".

"It could be the link we're after", McGee said. "We know that Jake Green had recently split from his wife after bedding her friend. O'Donnell had two men on the go at once".

"I think that's why he stabs them through the heart", said Tony. "Symbol of love and all that. We said at the start that the killer was trying to send a message. That's what I think it is. It's a message that…it's important to stay faithful; Semper Fi and all that. Particularly if you're a Marine". He felt like he'd run out of voice.

"It makes sense", said Ziva. "But the cell phone Haslar had been calling is unregistered. Not been used since the night of the murder. Mrs Haslar doesn't have a name for her son's lover. We don't know how he targets his victims. We still have a way to go before we catch this guy".

Tony felt his sour mood thicken. To hell with the Israeli Ninja and her sniping. "Gee, Ziva, at least we have more than when I headed off this afternoon. We have a possible suspect, a motive, a cell phone number. Didn't know you'd come up with anything better whilst I was out, you know?"

"Get on it, all of you", barked Gibbs. "Talk to all Haslar's friends, fellow Marines, whoever. See if you can find out if anyone knew anything about this boyfriend of his. McGee, I take it you've checked via your technical whatsits if the cell phone that our unknown lover boy was using has a GPS chip?"

"Yes, Boss. It doesn't. Unless he uses it again – which is unlikely as it seems to only have been used to call Haslar – I can't do much where the phone's concerned".

"Do whatever you have to, but get me a name for this man", growled Gibbs.

The rest of the day passed slowly for Tony, bringing as it did no tangible result. Nobody seemed to have known anything about Haslar's boyfriend. Towards midnight, Gibbs let them all go home.

Back in his apartment, Tony slumped on his bed. He thought through the events of the day. Jeez, why had this case taken the turn that it had? It had been more painful than he'd have believed possible to stand in front of Gibbs and tell him what he thought was the motive for the murders.

He lay back, thinking about his relationship with Gibbs and when things went distinctly pear-shaped.

When exactly did Tony the womanizer, the Tony who he thought had gone for good, make his comeback bid? Was it after seeing somebody, who, for a brief moment, reminded him of Jeanne? Was it when he found some old photos of himself with his frat buddies, with some unremembered blonde draped over him? Was that when he thought, "Will I never sleep with a woman again? Have I got what it takes to do this commitment thing? With a man?"

It wasn't as if though Gibbs made him feel stifled in the way that Jeanne had done at times. He just found it hard to accept that he wasn't supposed to sleep with anyone else. Perhaps Gibbs had a good reason for Rule Number Twelve; maybe relationships between work colleagues never worked out well. The fact that Gibbs was his boss made things doubly complicated. Tony had wondered back then what would happen if things went sour between the two of them.

The impulse came upon him on one of the rare evenings that he wasn't spending with Gibbs. He'd been flicking through the messages on his cell phone when he got the idea. There was an old text there from a girl he'd bedded a year or so ago. Afterwards, Tony had moved swiftly on, even though the sex had been great, but she'd persisted for a while in trying to see him again, with calls and text messages.

A small seed of rebellion at being committed, being in a relationship, all the things he'd always avoided, started to grow in him. For a moment, he felt the urge to be free again, although at the back of his mind he knew that Gibbs had never made him feel trapped anyway. He didn't think about what he was doing as he called the number.

It turned out that his ex-girlfriend was free that evening. And thrilled to have heard from him. Before he really knew what was happening, before he could stop it, she was at his door. She made it clear that she was more than willing to resume where they left off. How could he turn her down, when it was he who had called her?

He knew he'd made the mother of all mistakes as soon as he kissed her. He'd grown used to stubble against his face, being held by strong male arms, having a thick erection press against him. She was all softness and smoothness as opposed to Gibbs' hard roughness, but there was no joy, no spice to it. It was Gibbs who he wanted in his arms, not this woman who was one of a countless number that he'd found, fucked and forgot.

She was persistent, however. Somehow Tony found himself in bed with her, going through the motions of sex, which ended up being pretty uninspiring, given his lack of enthusiasm. He could tell that she was disappointed, considering how they'd been with each other a year ago.

Afterwards, he was barely polite to her, practically hustling her out of the door. He couldn't wait to get her out of his bed, out of his apartment, where her presence was an insult to Gibbs and everything that they'd shared together.

"Bastard", he heard her mutter in a stage whisper as she left. He was past caring. All he felt was self–loathing for betraying Gibbs, sullying what they'd built together.

What had he done; what the frickin' hell had he done? To Gibbs, the man who he was growing to love?

What concerned him the most, what gnawed away at him, was that he didn't think he'd be able to conceal what he'd done. Gibbs had always seen through all the masks that he'd worn, knew him inside out, knew when he wasn't being straight about something. Gibbs' gut instincts would tell him that something had happened.

Tony knew that he had no chance of lying to Gibbs.

He did his best in work the next day, though. He found it hard to meet Gibbs' eye; he was either slightly over the top with the clowning around or else he withdrew into a subdued mood. He could see the other man looking at him, with that unnerving stare of appraisal that he had. He hoped like hell that Gibbs would put it down to a passing tiredness or bad temper.

Concentration was nearly impossible, not only because he knew that Gibbs was watching him, but because regrets were threatening to overwhelm him. He knew that it was Gibbs who he really wanted, however strange it felt to him to be in a relationship with a man. He wanted the strength that Gibbs offered him, the chance for something meaningful after all the shallowness, and yes, he wanted the amazing sex that he'd found with Gibbs.

Somehow the day ended. Tony was convinced that Gibbs knew that something was wrong. He tried a desperate attempt to maintain normality as they left the building. Ziva and McGee were close by so Tony couldn't manage much. Whispering to Gibbs before they reach the elevator, he said "Seven o'clock, your place, Gibbs?" and pasted a false smile on his face.

Gibbs didn't answer, just looked at Tony and Tony could swear that Gibbs could see the pictures of last night's sexual betrayal that flashed, unwanted, across his brain. He couldn't read his expression at all. Then Gibbs gave him a brief nod.

When Tony arrived at Gibbs' house, he found him down in the basement, working on his boat, rhythmically sanding away. Tony walked slowly down the stairs, conscious of Gibbs' eyes on him and the fact that he made no attempt to come over to him. Tony put his arms around an unresponsive Gibbs and tried to kiss him, but Gibbs pulled away.

"Something you want to tell me, DiNozzo?" He held Tony with those eyes of his, sapphire and tanzanite piercing through him, and Tony couldn't look away. He moistened his dry lips, but couldn't speak. He knew that he had to say something, that every second he let slip by without speaking was doing worse damage to something already very damaged indeed.

When he didn't reply, Gibbs raised his voice. "Tell me what's up, DiNozzo. And don't even think of lying to me". He grasped Tony by his upper arms, hurting him a little. "I'm going to ask you again. Something you want to tell me?"

Tony still couldn't speak.

Gibbs grasped him harder. "You been with someone else, DiNozzo? A woman? Is that it?"

He couldn't lie. It was then that Tony said the words that hurt Gibbs so badly. Words that came out of a desert dry mouth.

"Yes, Jethro".

Tony felt his guts twist as he saw the pain flash across Gibbs' face. Gibbs let go of him as if he was made of anthrax.

Tony spoke again but when the words came out he wished to God that he hadn't. A bad case of open mouth, insert foot.

"It meant nothing, Gibbs. She meant nothing".

After he said it, he knew he couldn't have come out with anything worse. The clichéd response of so many cheaters when they were discovered. Gibbs deserved better in every way. Tony watched as Gibbs' face shut down into an icy mask.

It was the look of hurt in Gibbs' eyes that was the worst. There was disappointment in them as well. He'd hurt and disappointed Gibbs, the man who he now knew he loved. He couldn't bear it and looked away, shame permeating his body from the bones outwards.

He'd let him down. How could he come back from that? Why on earth would Gibbs even want to let him try? A total screw-up like him.

"Just go, DiNozzo. Go. We're over. If there ever was a "we". Gibbs' voice was flat, emotionless; belied by his eyes, his expression.

"Jethro…" He moved towards him, but stopped as Gibbs' face suddenly blazed with anger.

"That wasn't a suggestion, DiNozzo. Get out of here. Now. Or I swear you'll regret it". The fury was evident now for Tony to hear. He dared not disobey Gibbs; then was not the moment to face down the uncaged tiger.

He drove back to his apartment, unlocked the door, went in and sank onto the couch. Self loathing, disgust and guilt sank down with him. He didn't deserve any better, he thought. He was one hell of a monumental screw-up and right then he wished that Gibbs had made good on his threat of making him regret things. As if he didn't already. Getting his lights punched out by Gibbs might have made him feel that little bit better and it was no more that he deserved.

Forcing his mind back to the present, Tony sighed, running his hand through his unkempt hair and over his unshaven chin. Thinking about all this did no good, no good whatsoever.

He'd destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to him, hurt the finest man he'd ever known, with no prospect of being able to put it right.

"Gotta admit it, DiNozzo", he said to himself. "You've never made a fuck-up quite as epic as this one".

He always screwed everything up. His father had been right about him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

It was the next day that three became four. Gibbs had taken a call almost as soon as he got into work. Another body had been found, this time down by the Chesapeake and Ohio canal. Matthew Taylor, aged 25, Marine. Same modus operandi.

The team were assembled down in Abby's lab.

"Tell me you got something, Abs", said Gibbs.

"Indeed I have, Gibbsman", Abby said, pride in her voice. She twirled round, dropping into a curtsey as if receiving applause. On seeing Gibbs' stony face, her smile faded and she gestured towards a screen. "Our killer is getting careless. There was a partial print on the paper pinned to this one's chest. Enough to get a match with".

"You got a name to go with the print, Abs?"

"Sorry, Gibbs. It doesn't come up in CODIS or any other database so I've not been able to match it. But it helps, right?" She sounded hopeful. "After all, it's more than you guys have got so far, right? And there's more".

"You found something else, besides the print?"

"I did, Gibbs, but it's not much and I don't know if it will help you at all. After all, this stuff is pretty common and…"

"Abby! You said you'd found something?" Gibbs cut across the babble, impatience seeping out of his voice.

"I have, Gibbsman. I found this". She turned round and gestured to the screen above Major Mass Spec. The chart displayed showed a chemical analysis, with one peak much taller than the others. Above it were the words oxalic acid.

"He had some trace on his shirt, Gibbs. You know what I reckon this is?" She grinned at Gibbs, hoping he'd play the guessing game, and waited. Gibbs wasn't in the mood.

"Just tell me, Abby. What is this stuff?"

"I reckon, Gibbsman…" Abby paused for dramatic effect. "The substance is mainly oxalic acid. Which is the main ingredient in…" Another pause, with a satisfied grin accompanying it. "Bar Keeper's Friend".

"Isn't that the cleaning powder stuff?" asked McGee.

"Yup", said Gibbs. "Got some myself. Useful for cleaning up in the basement. Doesn't help us though, Abs. That stuff is pretty commonplace. Not just used in bars anymore. Pretty much lots of homes would have some of the stuff".

"What about what we found in his pocket? Would not that indicate, along with this Bar Keeper's Buddy stuff…" - Ziva gesticulated at Major Mass Spec's screen – "that there may be some connection with a bar? Maybe that's how the killer targets his victims in some way?"

"A beer mat, with a phone number on", said McGee. "Doesn't mean they're connected. The killer could have used the Bar Keeper's Friend to clean up after the killing, wherever it took place. The beer mat could have come from any one of the thousands of bars in the city".

"McGee's right", said Gibbs. "It's not much of a link, but it's all we have to go on. DiNozzo, get upstairs and follow up on that phone number on the beer mat. McGee, usual checks on Taylor's phone records, computer stuff, whatever. Ziva, find out whether the victims ever frequented the same bars. Check out your theory that the killer may be selecting his targets that way".

Tony headed back upstairs and called the number on the beer mat. A sleepy female voice answered. Within minutes, Tony was on his way to interview the owner of the voice.

"Your name is Suzie Perry, right?"

"Yeah, that's right". They were sat on the couch in the cramped living room of Suzie Perry's tiny apartment. She'd obviously not long been out of bed, her hair messy, her eyes a little unfocussed. The top of her terry robe was open, giving Tony a clear view of the fading hickeys on her neck.

"Can you tell me how a man called Matthew Taylor had a beer mat in his pocket with your phone number on?" asked Tony.

"Matthew Taylor…" She paused. "I know that name…what did he look like, honey?"

"Six feet, slim, dark hair, blue eyes, small mole on right cheek…"

"I know who you mean! Came into the bar where I work, night before last. Quite the cutie, just like yourself, honey. We chatted. A lot".

"And he asked for your number".

"Yeah, sweetie. Was really hoping he'd call. He was hot, you know? Married, though. Told me his wife didn't understand him. Hell, how many times have I heard that line". She dragged on her cigarette, puffing out smoke.

"Didn't hear from him, though. He in some kind of trouble?"

"He's dead. Murdered last night, found this morning".

"Oh…my…God…and you think…" She swallowed, ran her hand over her eyes. "You think I had something to do with it?"

Tony almost laughed out loud. The idea that this small, bony female, who looked like she existed on alcohol, cigarettes and sex, could have been strong enough to strike the blows that had killed four Marines, was indeed laughable. At the time of Taylor's murder, he'd bet that she was either sinking a load of booze or else sleeping it off.

"We're just following up all lines of enquiry, Ms Perry. What is the name of the bar where you work? You're a barmaid there, is that right?"

"Chain and Anchor". It was a well-known Naval haunt, not that far from the Naval Yard. Tony drew three photographs from his backpack.

"You ever seen any of these men in there?"

Suzie Perry took her time, studied the faces of Ryan Haslar, Jake Green and Sean O'Donnell. "Yeah. Seen all of them at one time or another. Can't tell you much about them, though. Chatted to them if they were at the bar. Don't recall much about them". She blew out smoky breath towards Tony. "They get done in too?"

"Can't reveal that, Ms Perry. Ongoing investigation and all that". Tony stood up. "Thanks, you've been very helpful".

"My pleasure, sweetie. Come by again. If you need some company". She smiled archly up at him from at least a foot below him in height. Tony could see the gap where a tooth was missing. He backed away towards the door.

So all the victims had used the same bar. Ziva could be right; that might be how the killer was selecting his victims. If the common link was cheating on their partners, then casual talk in a bar could be how the killer found out about it.

Casual talk. Words of bravado, intended to impress with how the cheater was a real stud. Not knowing that the words were being spoken to someone unhinged, someone who was out to kill those who couldn't keep their pants zipped up.

Casual talk. With a bartender, maybe, a bartender with the size and strength to kill a Marine. A possible link with the cleaning agent found on Taylor's clothes, although it was a tenuous one.

Tony looked at his watch. A minute after eleven a.m. The Chain and Anchor would be open by now for the day's business. He decided to stop in and have a drink.

He parked up and walked into the bar. Nothing to distinguish it from countless other sleazy dives, popular with off duty Navy guys. It was early and there were only a few patrons there. Some men were playing pool at one end of the bar. A guy who Tony presumed was the bartender was wiping tables, putting out down fresh beer mats. He came towards the bar when he saw Tony there.

"Lemonade and lime", said Tony. He scrutinized the bartender.

Oh, yes. This could be their guy. This could be Ryan Haslar's secret lover. Early twenties. Dark, short hair. Muscular. And tall, about six two.

Tony got his drink, and the bartender moved away down the other end of the bar, checking the optics, slicing some lemons, wiping the bar down. Whilst his back was turned, Tony picked up his glass where he knew the bartender hadn't touched it, leaned over the bar and poured his drink into the slops tray. Taking the glass, he left the bar and headed back to the Naval Yard. Once there, he made straight for Abby's lab.

"Abs. There'll be two sets of prints on this glass, one of them mine. Can you check the other prints against the partial you lifted off the paper on the latest victim?"

"Will do. Where'd you get the glass, Tony? You guys caught a break on this one at long last? Cause, you know, you sure need one. Not that you've not all been trying your absolute hardest, I know that…" Abby babbled on as she lifted the fingerprint and scanned it in. The results didn't take long. A ping came from her computer.

POSITIVE MATCH.

Tony looked at Abby's screen, at the two fingerprints side by side; saw with his own eyes the repetition of the loops and whorls. They had their man.

"Way to go, Tony boy! Way to go!" Abby threw her arms round Tony at the same moment as Gibbs walked in.

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Isn't Tony the greatest? Look, Gibbsman! A match". She pointed at the fingerprint results.

Gibbs turned to Tony. "You want to fill me in on this, whatever this is, DiNozzo?"

Tony outlined briefly the interview he'd had with Suzie Perry and his visit to the Chain and Anchor. "The bartender's prints match those that we found on the latest victim. His description matches that given by Mrs Haslar as being her son's secret lover. He's right-handed. Physically strong enough to have done the murders".

"Whatcha waiting for, DiNozzo. Take Ziva and McGee. Go bring him in". Gibbs turned away and left the lab.

"Wow, I sure hope whatever's eating Gibbs goes away soon, I mean that was great stuff on your part, Tony, really great work, looks like you've cracked the case and Gibbs didn't even say well done…."

"You know what he's like, Abs. Never does say well done. Well, not to me anyway".

"Hey, Mister, I think you're great and Gibbs does, too, even if he doesn't say it". Abby punched Tony's arm playfully. "Grab McGee and Mrs Ninja and go get your man".

Tony rounded up the others and they set off for the Chain and Anchor. Within the hour, they had the bartender in custody, taken his prints and officially matched them with the partial found on Matthew Taylor. Abby had found traces of Bar Keeper's Friend on his hands and clothes as well.

Gibbs had gone to bring Mrs Haslar in to see if she could positively ID the man they had in custody as the same one that she'd seen in bed with her son. He stood with her outside the interrogation room. Tony and Ziva waited to one side, ready to watch Gibbs conduct his interrogation of the man inside.

"Is that him, Mrs Haslar? Is that the man who you saw in bed with your son?"

Mrs Haslar nodded. "That's him. That's the man. Do you have enough to convict him?"

"We believe so". Gibbs voice was gentle, sympathetic. "I'll see what he says when I question him, but even without a confession we have a very strong case to take before a jury. We've got your son's killer, ma'am".

"Who is he, Agent Gibbs? What can you tell me about him?"

"His name is Mason Garrett. New to the DC area; moved here about two months ago. Got a job as a bartender at the Chain and Anchor. We believe, although it has yet to be confirmed, that is where he probably met your son".

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs". She laid her hand on Gibbs' forearm, turned to smile at Tony. "Your Agent DiNozzo here does NCIS credit; I hope you realise that. From what I understand, it was he who caught my son's killer".

Gibbs didn't respond. Tony felt a tiny prick of disappointment deep in his gut.

"My thanks and those of my husband go to you and your team, Agent Gibbs". She gave him a small smile. "What I have to do now is try to forgive the man who killed my son".

"You think you can do that, ma'am? After he murdered your only child?" Disbelief was evident in Gibbs' voice. Tony knew that his thoughts would be spiralling back to Shannon and Kelly's deaths.

"I have to try, Agent Gibbs. I have always had a very strong Christian faith. I consider that it is my duty, difficult as it may be, to forgive this man, this Mason Garrett. I believe in the concept that to err is human, but to forgive is divine. However hard we may find it to do".

Gibbs gave a slight nod but didn't reply. Tony couldn't read his expression, but he guessed he'd be thinking that forgiveness for the man who had killed his wife and daughter wouldn't be happening this side of the afterlife. Tony didn't think Gibbs was the forgiving sort. For him, it probably ranked along with apologies as a sign of weakness.

Gibbs eventually spoke. "Thank you for coming in, Mrs Haslar. I have to go and question Mason Garrett now. Either my agents or I will keep you fully briefed. You have my word on that. Ziva, show Mrs Haslar out". With that, he exited the room and Tony saw him enter the interrogation room and sit down opposite Mason Garrett.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The interrogation didn't take long. Faced with the evidence against him, as well as the intimidating presence of Gibbs, Mason Garrett admitted to all four murders.

"Why did you kill Ryan Haslar?" asked Gibbs.

"He was supposed to love me". Garrett wasn't looking at Gibbs; Tony noted that his eye contact wasn't great. But then getting an eyeful of the Gibbs death stare would terrify pretty much anyone, thought Tony.

"He said he'd realized that he was gay, that he didn't want to marry that little girlfriend of his. It was his parents who thought that was a good idea, not him".

"You thought he'd stay with you and leave her", said Gibbs.

"That's what he said. That was what he promised. We were good together". Garrett fidgeted in his seat, still not looking at Gibbs.

"You always been gay?" asked Gibbs.

"Yeah. Always knew. First time for Ryan with a man, though. But he told me…he promised…said he'd realized that he was that way too. Said we could live together. That he'd move out from his parents, we'd get a place together. Said we'd have to keep it quiet, though. On account of him being a Marine and all that".

"When did you find out that he had gone back to Lauren James?"

"Got a call one night, out of the blue. Said he thought it was best if we ended things. Didn't say why, but I figured it was that asshole father of his behind it all".

"And you wanted him back", said Gibbs.

"Damn right I did. Called him, begged him. Wasn't too proud for that. He was too scared of Daddy Haslar, though. He wouldn't come back to me". Anguish flooded Garrett's voice.

"What did you do with the cell phone? It was a second one, only used for talking with Ryan Haslar, wasn't it?" asked Gibbs.

"Tossed it after I did him. Dunno where, some bin down Georgetown. Figured I might be traced through it, dunno how, but anyway".

"Tell me", said Gibbs. "Was there any significance in where you dumped the bodies?"

Garrett was silent for a while. "I was new to DC. Met Ryan pretty much straight away after I got here and took the job at the Chain and Anchor. Those places…" He swallowed, didn't speak for a minute. Gibbs didn't press him.

"They were places we went to together. He said he'd show me round DC, you know? Went to the Tidal Basin first. All those places were special to us. Well, to me, anyway."

A memory of running through the cherry tree blossoms at the Tidal Basin with Gibbs came into Tony's mind as he listened to the interrogation. Their feet kicking up the soft pink petals, Gibbs laughing at one of Tony's ridiculous jokes, the anticipation of Sunday morning in bed together spurring them on. He felt self-disgust rise up. He'd thrown all that away. He had only himself to blame for the contempt that Gibbs now felt for him.

"Ryan Haslar", said Gibbs. "Where did you kill him?"

"My place. I called him, asked him to come over. So we could talk. Took a while to get him to agree to come, but eventually he said yes".

Tony knew that the crime scene crew were at Garrett's place now. They'd find Haslar's blood there. Another nail of evidence to hammer into Garrett.

"Did you plan to kill him when you asked him to come over?"

Garrett shook his head. "No, man. Just wanted to talk, reason with him, you know? I knew he didn't want that Lauren bitch. He wanted me".

"But you couldn't get him to see that", said Gibbs.

"That was about it. He said we couldn't be together, that he was going to marry her. Couldn't stand it no more". He banged his fist on the table. Gibbs didn't flinch.

"What happened then?"

"Figured that if I couldn't have him, nobody would. We were in the kitchen. I grabbed a knife. Stuck it in him, in the gut. Then in the chest". Garrett's face was a mask now, no emotion visible. His fingers played a staccato beat on the table.

"I just sat there. Didn't take him no time to die, not once I'd done him in the heart. Then I got to thinking. I was mad, you see. He shouldn't have done that to me. He shouldn't have done it".

"Left you for Lauren James, you mean?" asked Gibbs.

"Been unfaithful. He'd gone back to sleeping with her. Not right, it wasn't right. Him a Marine and all that. That gave me the idea".

"The Marine Corps emblem, the motto", said Gibbs.

"Yeah. Wasn't right at all. Semper Fi. Means Always Faithful. But he wasn't. First sign of trouble from his dad and he gets back in bed with that little airhead. How could he be a Marine if he couldn't do the Semper Fi bit?"

"Twisted logic there, I think", said Ziva, now back after showing Mrs Haslar out. "Do you not agree, Tony?"

"Well, yeah, Ziva, the man murdered four Marines, I don't think he was thinking too clearly about anything, do you?"

"I can understand him in a way", said Ziva. "If a man was unfaithful to me, I would…"

"Yeah, Ziva, we get it. You'd chop his balls off. We know".

In the interrogation room, Garrett was continuing. "Sat there for a while. Went on the Internet, found that emblem thing. Printed it off, wrote Semper Fi under it. Pulled the knife out of his chest, stuck it back in with that attached. Message to other Marines".

"Tell me about the others", said Gibbs.

"Met them all in the bar. They thought they were really something, you know? Banging on about who they'd shagged. Made me sick. Marines, all of them, yet none of them could keep their pants zipped up. No Semper Fi for any of them. The first one, got talking to him. Found out he'd been doing his wife's mate behind her back".

"And you decided to teach him a lesson", said Gibbs.

"Yeah. Me, I pretended like I thought that he was a real macho man, you know? He talked a bit too much. Found out where he lived, followed him in the car on one of my nights off. Had the knife, the emblem thing with me. Saw my chance, did him over, put him in the car. Dumped him, Anacostia Park. Where me and Ryan went one afternoon, second week I was here".

"You do the others the same way?" asked Gibbs.

"Yeah. Like you said, they needed teaching a lesson. People in relationships, they should be faithful, you know? No fucking around, it's not right. Ryan deserved what he got. So did the others".

Garrett's words hit Tony like a mental head slap. Gibbs shifted in his chair but made no comment.

"Wonder what a shrink would make of him", Tony said. He felt the need to say something, anything, to divert his thoughts from what Garrett had said.

"A shrink? That is what you call a psychiatrist, no?" said Ziva. "I think they would find that this man is not entirely, how shall I put it, not completely mentally stable. We may find, when we look into it, evidence of past mental issues. After all, most people would not react to their partner's infidelity in such an extreme fashion".

No, thought Tony. But many would react exactly as Gibbs had done.

The interrogation ended soon after. Gibbs exited the room and walked up to Ziva and Tony.

"Ziva, take his statement then book him. DiNozzo, see what the crime scene guys have come up with". Then he was gone.

Tony spent a good hour or so with the crime scene crew. He then went back up to the bullpen and started writing up his report, tying up the loose ends of the case, getting it ready for the lawyers.

It was now late afternoon. Gibbs was at his desk, not looking in Tony's direction at all.

Tony could hear his voice in his head, though. Cold, stern, demanding compliance. "Once we've got Haslar's killer, I expect you in Vance's office within the hour".

Tony had nowhere to hide on this one. His report was done and on Gibbs' desk, not even earning him a glance from his boss. Gibbs had said nothing about how he had cracked the case, not that Tony expected praise. That wasn't Gibbs' style even when he wasn't pissed at him.

He looked at his watch. He pretended to be working on his computer but there was only one thought in his head. Gibbs had demanded that he go and see Vance, and he expected it to happen right away, without further delay. He had no reason to believe that Gibbs would forget or let him off in any way. He had made his position very clear indeed. The coldness that Gibbs had shown him, the intransient hard attitude, weren't indicators of a mind that could be swayed.

He wouldn't be surprised if Vance put on his dancing shoes and did the fandango all round his office once he requested the transfer. The director had been reluctant to have him back from the Seahawk; he preferred smart guys with a string of degrees to their name. Like McGee. Yeah, Vance was gonna love this.

There was the question of where to transfer to, not that it mattered. Any posting without Gibbs as his boss held no appeal for Tony. Hawaii, maybe, or Florida. Depended on where they had an opening. Tony didn't care. Gibbs wouldn't be there.

"No more than you deserve, you idiot", he thought.

Yeah. He deserved to lose Gibbs and his job at the Naval Yard. He'd fucked up, hadn't he? Cheated on the man who had come to mean more to him than anyone else ever had. The man who had given him a chance after his stints at Peoria, Philly and Baltimore, who had mentored him, developed him, made him the agent that he was.

No, a screw-up like him didn't deserve a decent man like Gibbs. His boss was right to demand that he transfer somewhere else. He couldn't blame him. Hell, he wouldn't want to work with himself after what he'd done.

And he was so used to obeying Gibbs that doing anything else wasn't really an option.

"You stupid, stupid, fuck-up", he told himself.

He couldn't stall it any longer.

Slowly, he got up from his desk. He had a sour taste in his mouth and a growing knot of self-pity in his gut. He still felt like crap and couldn't see that changing anytime soon. Hell, life itself was crap right now.

He placed one foot slowly in front of the other, moving towards the stairs leading up from the bullpen to Vance's office. A mocking mantra of self-hate kept time in his head with his reluctant feet.

You.

Up one step.

You stupid.

Up another.

You stupid, stupid.

And up another.

You stupid, stupid, fuck-up.

Nearly at the top.

Then he heard Gibbs' roar from the bullpen below.

"DINOZZO!! GET BACK DOWN HERE. NOW".


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. It's much appreciated!**

Gibbs sat on his couch, nursing a finger of bourbon. It was the evening of the day of Garrett's arrest. He wasn't planning on working on the boat tonight. That was for when he needed to unwind. Right now he needed to think.

He thought back to earlier that day when he'd looked up and seen where Tony was heading. He'd known instantly that Tony was going to see Vance, to request a transfer.

Before his yell from the bullpen, he'd had no intention of preventing Tony from transferring; his anger against his former lover was still fiery hot. He'd thought that Tony leaving DC was what he wanted.

Now it was looking to Gibbs as if, although he'd demanded that Tony transfer out, that wasn't what he wanted at all. His gut had known something his brain had refused to recognize. It had been from his gut, driven by pure instinct, that the yell to DiNozzo had come.

He'd been every bit as amazed as DiNozzo when he'd ordered him back to his desk. Before his mouth opened, he had no idea that he was going to say what he did.

He'd been unable to meet Tony's eyes when his obviously confused senior agent came back down. He'd made up some reason about something that needed doing; it sounded feeble even to him. Tony clearly didn't believe him, but didn't question him.

Gibbs had no idea what to do now. If he didn't want Tony to transfer to another office, then what the hell did he want? He didn't know if he and Tony could work together again, not after what had happened. Not unless they had the mother of all heart to hearts and Gibbs couldn't see that happening anytime this century. Neither Tony nor he were the talking type when it came to emotions.

Gibbs sighed, ran his hand over his face. Rough stubble met his fingers. He'd not shaved that day, what with the demands of the Garrett case, and he couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. He didn't feel good.

Picking up the phone, he placed an order for home delivery Chinese and sat back down to await its arrival.

He knew in his gut how deeply the Garrett case had affected him on a personal level, coming as it did straight after Tony had admitted to sleeping with someone else. The case had thrust the ugly consequences of an inability to forgive right into Gibbs' face, up close and very personal indeed.

Rose Haslar had given him a glimpse of the other side of the coin.

Her words prior to the interrogation came back to him.

"To err is human, to forgive is divine".

Faced with the man who had killed her son, her only child – and God above, Gibbs knew the agony of losing a child - her thoughts had been of forgiveness. Not a concept that Gibbs was familiar with.

Or even one he'd spent any time thinking about. After Shannon and Kelly had been murdered, if anyone had suggested that he forgive their killer, he'd have probably punched them out. Forgiveness had been the last thing he'd been prepared to do. All there had been in his mind, besides the grief, had been white-hot anger and a ruthless determination to track down their killer.

Forgiveness. What did it even mean?

Thinking about it, Gibbs realized that he equated forgiveness with weakness. Apologies were a sign of weakness, sure, but when it came to going further and actually forgiving someone, Gibbs reckoned it meant weakness with a capital W. Wasn't forgiveness for those who were spineless, who couldn't stand up to those who had wronged them?

Yet Rose Haslar, although clearly in her husband's shadow, didn't strike him as being spineless. Her voice as she told him that she would try to forgive Mason Garrett had held strength rather than weakness, faith rather than anger.

Faith. Like forgiveness, not something that Gibbs was well acquainted with. He'd never taken much interest in religion, and the brutal murders of Shannon and Kelly had convinced him that there was no higher power that gave a damn about this world. He didn't share Mrs Haslar's religious faith, but he couldn't help thinking about what she had said. She was proposing to forgive Mason Garrett for the murder of her son. Yet here was Gibbs, unable to forgive Tony for cheating on him, which, although he hated the fact that it had happened, wasn't in the same league as what Garrett had done.

The doorbell rang and Gibbs took delivery of his Chinese. Setting the boxes out on the table, getting a plate and cutlery, he thought back to one particular Chinese meal that he'd shared with Tony. Sitting up in bed, feeding each other noodles and sliced beef, Gibbs laughing as the inevitable happened and splashes of black bean sauce landed on Tony's expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. Gibbs didn't give a toss about that sort of thing, but Tony clearly did, griping about it until Gibbs had pinned him down and kissed him to shut him up. The kiss had led to the rest of the Chinese remaining uneaten as molten lust flared up between them.

Gibbs sighed again. That night had been one of the most passionate they'd shared; they couldn't seem to get enough of each other's bodies and Tony had definitely needed to sit down slowly and carefully the next day. They'd been especially loving as well, hot kiss after hot kiss, making out like horny teenagers. At one point, Gibbs had pulled back to look at Tony, holding his face in his hands and had been completely charmed by the expression of need and want that he saw there.

Gibbs poured himself another finger of bourbon. The room was getting dark but he couldn't make the effort to get up, close the blinds, or switch on the light. Right now, he needed all his remaining energy to think clearly about what to do about Tony, how he felt about him.

Gibbs knew that Tony was different, different to the various Shannon substitutes he'd tried to self-medicate with over the years since her death. Gibbs wanted Tony for himself, not because he was a pale stand-in for someone else, long gone. He loved – yes, loved – Tony because he was uniquely DiNozzo, with the huge smile and the cocky attitude that covered up his many insecurities.

He thought about his relationship with Tony over the years.

The overwhelming dread he'd felt when Tony had been in hospital infected with the Y Pestis, seeing his flushed face, hearing his desperate fight for every breath. The sheer relief that overwhelmed him when he'd been told that the Y Pestis had a suicide chain built in, that Tony wouldn't die.

The panic he'd felt when Tony was abducted and chained up in that filthy underground room. The way he'd had to squash down the urge to hug Tony tighter than tight when he found him, despite the stinking grime plastered all over him.

And worst of all, the way he'd hardly been able to breathe on watching Tony's car being blown apart in the Benoit fiasco and thinking that Tony was in it. He'd watched what appeared to be Tony's death and realized then that a world without Tony would be drained of colour, of meaning, of life.

Thinking about it, it seemed obvious that his feelings for Tony had been growing over several years. It had taken Tony being assigned to the Seahawk for Gibbs to be able to recognize and act on those feelings, however. Feelings he'd thought were reciprocated. Until Tony cheated on him.

"Tony, Tony", Gibbs said out loud. "Why did you do it? Why did you feel the need to sleep with someone else?"

Gibbs chewed on his food, not really tasting it. He thought back to when he'd found out that his fourth wife had been unfaithful. He'd reacted in the same way as he had with Tony. He'd been furious, told Stephanie to leave, been unable to forgive what he saw as her betrayal. He realized that he'd never even considered forgiving her.

They'd never discussed what had caused it. Maybe it had been the fact that he'd been too busy with work, but he didn't think so. He reckoned it was because he'd chosen her because of her hair color, in the vain hope that his lost love could be replaced. He thought that probably Stephanie had recognised his lack of true commitment on some level and that was what had led her to another man. And it explained why he hadn't been prepared to forgive her. He simply hadn't cared enough.

He realized that he had no idea what had caused Tony to stray. Just like with Stephanie, he'd reacted with fury, giving Tony no chance to explain. Because that would mean talking about feelings, those messy emotions that Gibbs had but preferred not to talk about.

Was it that ultimately Tony was straight? Had he merely been scratching an itch by jumping into bed with Gibbs?

He didn't think so. Tony's response to his first taste of male sex had been wholehearted and passionate; Gibbs was certain it came from somewhere deep-seated inside, that it wasn't a temporary detour down a sexual sidetrack.

Or was it that Tony was incapable of loving someone, of being faithful?

Again, he didn't think so. Somewhere deep within him, he remembered the looks that told him that Tony returned his own growing feelings of love. That couldn't be faked, not like a lot of Tony's behaviour when something sparked off his insecurities. That was real.

And in his gut, he didn't believe that Tony had been unfaithful simply because he was incapable of commitment. He'd always seen past the smokescreen that Tony chose to present to the world, and he knew that underneath that facade was a decent, honorable man. His loyal St Bernard, even if on this one occasion he'd not been so loyal. Did one lapse cancel out the years of constant commitment that Tony had otherwise shown him?

Gibbs wasn't sure that it did. Not when coupled with his gut instinct that Tony loved him.

All in all, Gibbs recognized what his frenzied yell to DiNozzo meant. He wanted Tony to come back to him, explain where it had all gone wrong, why he'd felt it necessary to stray. He wanted Tony to stay in DC, to be with him, and only him.

And he didn't know if that was possible.

For it to have any chance of happening, Gibbs would have to face down his reluctance to talk about feelings.

And then he'd have to do something much, much harder.

He'd have to forgive Tony. Forgive him completely and utterly, so that his lapse was never brought up again in moments of anger, never thrown in Tony's face, never used as a weapon by Gibbs against Tony.

Gibbs ran his hand over his stubbly chin again. Hell, that would be a tough one. Could he do it?

He wasn't sure that he could. He had been a Marine, for God's sake. Forgiveness was for other people. Not for him. He couldn't and wouldn't appear weak.

"A washed up ex-Marine who still hankers after someone who couldn't keep it in his pants", he thought. That about summed him up. Whether he could forgive Tony or not, the fact that he still yearned for him in his bed, in his life, made him weak, he reckoned. Not a comfortable thought for "second B is for bastard" Gibbs.

Wouldn't hurt to think about it, though. If Rose Haslar could forgive Mason Garrett, for something that seemed utterly unforgivable to Gibbs, then he could at least turn the idea over in his mind some more. No harm in that.

Hell, he had a lot to think about.

And forgiveness wasn't the only thing. Slowly edging into Gibbs' feelings was a sense of shame at the way he'd acted.

He'd not played fair with Tony. It had been an error of judgement to demand that he transfer to another posting. Yes, he'd been angry; red-hot angry, but he'd had no right to ask that, and definitely not to make it an order, either. Orders were for work, in the field, not for their personal lives, not for something like this. He'd taken things too far.

Gibbs finished up his bourbon. One thing he did know. Even if he was prepared to talk things through with Tony, if he was able to forgive him, he wasn't going to approach him or make the first move.

Pride ran through Gibbs' nature like lead through a pencil. Tony would have to be the one to make the next move if he wanted to resume their relationship. He'd been the one to stray in the first place; the next step was down to him. Gibbs, with his gut-driven yell from the bullpen, had opened the door for Tony. Would Tony walk through that door to what Gibbs was offering on the other side?

He realized that it was quite late, nearly eleven, and the room had grown completely dark. Half the uneaten Chinese food still sat on the table, a film of congealed grease on the surface. He pushed the plate away in disgust.

Gibbs made his way upstairs, bone tired after the turmoil of his break-up with Tony and the events of the Garrett case. He quickly showered, then pulled on some sweatpants ready to get into the cold bed that didn't have Tony in it. Turning, he saw an unfamiliar green amongst the pile of whites and greys that he favoured for his sweatshirts. He pulled it out. It was one of Tony's.

Gibbs held it to his face and breathed in the unique and familiar smell of Tony, the scent of his cologne with the foreign name that Gibbs could never pronounce. God, he missed Tony. Would it ever be alright between them? Would he ever have Tony in his arms, his bed, again?

Sighing, Gibbs pulled on Tony's sweatshirt and got into bed, wrapping his arms round his chest to hold what he had left of Tony close to him. He wondered where he was, what he was doing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Across town, in his apartment, Tony was getting in the shower, soap and shampoo in hand, fresh clothes ready on the bed.

Earlier that evening, he'd got home after work, bone tired, picking up a takeout of Chinese on the way. He hadn't the energy or inclination to cook but was ravenous, not having eaten since breakfast as the events of the Garrett case overtook the team.

Entering his kitchenette, he prised open the cartons, took a plate from the cupboard, chopsticks from a drawer. He flipped the top off a bottle of beer. Food first. He'd eat, and then he'd try to make sense of what had happened. Christ, that sure as hell wouldn't be easy.

He shovelled the food into his mouth, not really tasting it, black bean sauce spilling on the table. The sight of the sticky sauce reminded him painfully of a happier time with Gibbs, eating Chinese in bed; he'd never succeeded in getting the stains out of his sheets, but Jeez, what an amazing night it had turned into. He'd had virtually no sleep, not that he'd wanted any at the time. He'd been exhausted in work the next day, and boy, his ass had been tender, but what the hell. Every moment had been incredible. It always was with Gibbs.

Gibbs. Gibbs. Gibbs. The man was an enigma, Tony thought.

But maybe an enigma that wasn't as angry with him as he had feared.

What the hell had happened in work that afternoon? What had made Gibbs order him back down into the bullpen?

Gibbs had to have known where he was going and why. Something had made him call him back from seeing Vance. He had no idea why Gibbs had done that.

He thought back to when he'd been at the top of the stairs, on his way to Vance's office. He'd been awash with self pity, certain that nothing could ever change Gibbs' mind. And then the yell had come from the bullpen.

After he'd come back down, Gibbs had told him to check something with the crime scene guys. His boss hadn't been able to look at him; there was no doubt in Tony's mind that Gibbs' so-called reason for calling him back was bullshit. There were no loose ends with the crime scene crew. No, there had to be something else going on with Gibbs. He sure was an enigma, no doubt about that.

There was only one reason that Tony could think of why Gibbs had done it, unlikely as it seemed.

He remembered the urgency in his boss's voice. Gibbs had sounded like preventing him going to see Vance was the most crucial thing in the whole world, that it mattered more than anything else ever could right then.

A tiny bud of hope was growing inside Tony.

Gibbs had stopped him talking to Vance about a transfer.

Surely that could only mean that Gibbs wanted him to stay in DC, at NCIS, as his senior agent?

And if Gibbs wanted that, there could be a possibility that he might take Tony back.

Up to now, Tony hadn't believed that could happen. The strength of Gibbs' anger, his order that Tony transfer out of DC, had left Tony thinking that there was no way back with him. He'd already gone through in his head a hundred times the whole thing about Gibbs not being the forgiving type. Then the events of the Garrett case had overtaken the whole team; there had been no opportunity to approach Gibbs anyway, even if Tony had thought for one crazy second that such a move might succeed.

He slumped back on the couch. God, he was tired. Tired right through to his bones. He couldn't remember when he'd last slept properly. But he had to sort this out, think what to do about Gibbs. Because if he didn't he'd have to face him in work the next day, with nothing resolved or even discussed between them, and he knew he couldn't take another day of Gibbs freezing him out.

And if he was right, and Gibbs did actually want him to stay, what the hell would he think if Tony did nothing, said nothing? The conclusion he'd surely come to was that Tony didn't care, didn't want him.

He couldn't let that happen. He had to do something, tonight, before work tomorrow, to start resolving this.

Get a grip and focus, for God's sake, he told himself. Gibbs stopped you from seeing Vance. That has to be a good thing, right?

Maybe with his shout from the bullpen, Gibbs was giving Tony an indication that his attitude towards him had softened a little. If so, the next step was down to Tony. After all, it had been him who'd fucked up, hadn't it?

So it's up to you to sort things out, DiNozzo, he thought.

He didn't need to think about what he wanted. Hell, he'd had long days and nights to think about that, ever since Gibbs had thrown him out of his house. Even before that, really. After he'd cheated. He'd known then that he wanted Gibbs and only Gibbs.

Tony ran his hand over his face, rubbed his tired eyes. Yeah, that was what he wanted alright. To be back with Gibbs, to be in his bed, showing him that he was deserving of his love and trust. Right now he felt totally unworthy of it.

"Gibbs' loyal St Bernard. Yeah, right. Weren't so loyal when you slept with someone else, were you?"

He thought back over the events of the Garrett case, what had driven Garrett to do what he did. If nothing else, the events of the case had shown him, up close and personal, the devastating consequences of infidelity. It wasn't something that the old Tony, Tony the womanizer, had ever bothered thinking about.

And now the hurt, the pain, the anger that he had caused Gibbs meant that he couldn't think of anything else, unless it was the shame and remorse that felt like they were scorched right through his flesh.

Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs. Amongst all the pain, a memory came back to him. He thought back to the way Gibbs used to look at him.

When they were making out, Gibbs would take his face between his large, callused hands, his gaze flitting between Tony's eyes and his mouth, before moving in, oh so slowly, to kiss him. In those moments, Tony had felt Gibbs' love for him. He'd seen it in Gibbs's eyes and felt it in his kisses. And in Gibbs' hands stroking through his hair, over his body. Even though he believed, deep down, that he was unworthy of Gibbs' love, those looks, those kisses, those touches told him something different. However unlikely it seemed to Tony, he couldn't help knowing somewhere within him that Gibbs had felt something for him. Did that mean that there was something there to love, that Gibbs didn't see him as the screw-up that he saw himself as?

Well, if there was something worth loving, he didn't know what that was. He'd cheated on Gibbs, hadn't he? Hell, he hadn't even been able to keep his dick in his pants for longer than a few weeks.

Tony reflected on the real reason why he'd slept with his old girlfriend. OK, he was unfamiliar with the whole guy on guy thing, but that wasn't it. Sure, he'd wondered whether he could deal with the commitment thing. But that wasn't it either. Not the real, deep down, at the core of it, reason why he'd done it.

He'd done it because he was scared, shit scared.

His feelings towards Gibbs had been growing into love, and he'd panicked with the unfamiliar emotions, unable to deal with them. Sleeping with someone else had been the old Tony, Tony the womanizer, making one last desperate fight for life before laying down to die.

His fear of being hurt came into the equation too. Hell, he didn't need to take Psychology 101 to know the reason behind that, why that was an issue for him.

He thought back to his parents; a father that was cold and distant, a mother that cared more for her society status than she did for her only child. A succession of housekeepers had done more to bring him up than his parents ever had. Then boarding school and military academy had taken over the parenting role from the housekeepers. Somewhere along the line he'd got the message, loud and clear, that the people who were supposed to care for you ended up hurting you, abandoning you.

End result was, Tony was scared, scared down to his bones, of being hurt. That translated itself into sleeping around, an urge to walk out on relationships before he was the one being walked out on. Because deep down he found it hard to believe that anyone could truly love him or want to stay with him.

He'd always, he realized, held a fear at the back of his mind that Gibbs would get tired of him, leave him, move on. After all, what did he have to offer Gibbs, other than being talented between the sheets? And he couldn't see Gibbs being with someone for sex only. No, for Gibbs, there would have to be something more, something deeper.

Dunno what that might be in my case, he thought.

It was becoming obvious to Tony that if he and Gibbs stood any chance, any chance whatsoever, then he'd have to get to grips with his fear of being hurt, of loving and being loved.

But, Jeez, he was hurting anyway! Doing things the Tony DiNozzo way hadn't stopped him from getting hurt, not one bit. Just the opposite; it had led him straight to it, and he'd dragged Gibbs along for the ride as well.

He wondered if his cheating had killed Gibbs' love for him completely, or whether Gibbs could possibly still feel something for him. Oh, God. He couldn't bear to think about that. He didn't think he could take it if Gibbs didn't love him any more.

Even if Gibbs did still care about him, would it be enough to make him forgive him? If it wasn't, then nothing that Tony did or said would matter anyway.

But why the hell should a man like Gibbs bother with someone like him anyway? Why should he take him back? Hell, he couldn't even forgive himself for what he'd done. Why should Gibbs try to do so?

Tony was struggling to come up with an answer to that one. Exhaling slowly, he fought to keep down the despair that was threatening to overwhelm him.

He drained the last of the beer.

Can't take any more of this, he thought.

He slammed the empty beer bottle down on the table.

Get a grip on yourself, DiNozzo, he told himself. Time to cut the psychobabble crap.

He'd never been big on self-analysis, introspection, whatever. Thinking about all that sort of thing did no good. He could go round in circles with all this and not get anywhere. Truth was, he had no idea what was going on in Gibbs' head.

He couldn't change what had gone before, his parents, how he'd turned out.

And he couldn't change what had happened between himself and Gibbs. The only thing he could do was to start somewhere, get going on sorting out the whole damn mess.

Time to bury the old Tony for good. Hell, forget about burying him. He'd cremate him instead. He'd nail the coffin shut, build the mother of all pyres around it and set it ablaze. No more fucking around for him.

No more being shit scared, either. He'd been immature. He'd been unworthy of Gibbs. He had to grow up, step up to the plate, act like the man that Gibbs deserved.

Because if by some miracle Gibbs was prepared to give him a second chance, then he'd better make damn sure that he didn't screw it up. And the place to start was facing up to Gibbs. Sweet Jesus, that one sure wouldn't be a walk in the park.

He'd have to put himself and his feelings on the line, risk getting hurt even more, lay himself open to whatever Gibbs might want to dump on him.

No time like the present, thought Tony. I'll go over there tonight. See if he'll listen to me.

He'd tell Gibbs how it was with him, how he felt, however much Gibbs might be reluctant to discuss messy things like emotions – hell, Tony wasn't looking forward to it either – and maybe make him see that he could be the man that Gibbs wanted him to be.

He thought about what he'd do if Gibbs wouldn't listen to him that night - and there was every chance that he might not. If that happened, he'd keep trying. He'd try until he knew, beyond all possible doubt, that there was no hope left for him and Gibbs. He pushed away that worse than awful thought.

It was coming up to eleven o'clock. He'd better get going. Before he lost his nerve.

Slipping into the bathroom, he showered, shaved and changed before grabbing his car keys. It was late and he still felt like crap, but what the hell. He wanted Gibbs. He was going to make it right with him again. Whatever it took.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Gibbs lay in bed, unable to sleep despite the tiredness feeling like it had seeped into the marrow of his bones. He felt raw and vulnerable and he hated feeling that way. Hated feeling he'd let down his guard, shown Tony that he still wanted him.

Some small part of him refused to let go of the thought that he was weak in wanting back a man who had been unfaithful to him. He head slapped himself mentally. He had to let go of all that; he had to hold on to his earlier thoughts about forgiving Tony. About opening the door on another chance for their relationship.

Hell, he'd been guided often enough by his gut before. His gut had known, when his head hadn't, that he wanted Tony to stay. His gut was telling him that Tony cared for him, that he was worth the struggle that forgiveness would involve. He had to hold on to that. God, it was hard, though.

He started to drift off to sleep.

He was jolted awake by a voice calling his name. Tony's voice, coming from the hallway below.

"Jethro? Are you there? Jethro!"

Gibbs threw back the comforter, strode out onto the landing, looked over the banister. Tony was below, looking as nervous and vulnerable as he had ever seen him. Gibbs felt like his heart was being squeezed through his ribcage; he paused to draw in breath, steady himself. He walked down the stairs towards Tony.

The two men looked at each other, the air stretched tight between them.

Gibbs turned and walked into the living room. Tony followed and stood in front of him. He looked down at his feet, clearly ill at ease, his hands fidgeting in the pockets of his jeans. Gibbs waited.

"Jethro?" When Tony did speak, it was a mere whisper. His face was flushed; he was obviously finding this difficult. Gibbs didn't reply, merely looked at him.

"Don't know if I've got this all wrong here, Jethro. This afternoon. When you called me back, when I was going up to see Vance".

Gibbs gave a brief nod.

Tony was staring at the floor again. "Was going to ask for a transfer. Like you told me to. Didn't want to do it, Jethro. Felt like it was tearing my guts out, you know? But then you called me back. Figured you must have known what I was doing. And when I came back down, you gave me some crap about checking something with the crime scene guys. Didn't make sense. Thought it might be because you didn't want me to transfer".

Tony moved closer. "If I've got that wrong, tell me. You still want me to transfer, I'll do it. Hell, you know I'd do pretty much anything you wanted. But I gotta tell you this, Jethro. If I transfer, I'm staying in the DC area. I'll get a post at one of the subordinate offices near here, Bethesda, maybe, Dahlgren or Patuxent River. God knows what there'd be for me at any of those, probably sweet nothing, but what the hell. I'll transfer but I'll stay in DC and I'll make you see that I can be what you want me to be. However long it takes".

Tony looked up. "I fucked up, Jethro. Part of it was, it was hard for me, you know? Hard to come to terms with you being a man, me being involved with a man."

He looked down again, blew out a nervous breath, fingers still twisting in the pockets of his jeans.

"But there hasn't been a minute since I did what I did, since you told me to get out, that I haven't regretted it. I'll do anything, Jethro, whatever it takes, if you'll only give me another chance. Give me another chance to prove I'm not a total screw-up, that I can be what you want me to be".

Tony paused, catching much needed air. Still Gibbs said nothing.

"If you take me back, Jethro, I swear I'll never cheat on you again. I knew after I did what I did, that it wasn't some anonymous woman I wanted. I want you, only you. Never had it so good with anyone else, and I don't mean just the sex, amazing as that was. Just give me a second chance, Jethro…"

His voice was starting to crack; he swallowed thickly before continuing.

"What've I gotta do? Just tell me. I'll do anything. I'm not proud. Not good at this sort of thing, talking, feelings, you know? I just want back what we had together. I want you, Jethro".

Tony chewed on his lower lip, stared down at his sneakers.

"Jethro? Is it possible…could you…give me another chance?"

Gibbs' tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He couldn't say the words that he knew he should, the words of forgiveness that would make it alright again between Tony and himself. What he needed to say was locked up behind lingering resentment and pride. The words were stuck, wouldn't come out. It was all too hard. He couldn't do it.

The air in the room seemed too thick to breathe properly. His head felt heavy. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't deal with this, not right now. For him to be able to sort this out with Tony, he needed to get his weary, screwed-up brain working again. He rubbed his tired eyes, shaking his head with exhaustion, moving away from Tony back towards the stairs.

"NO….! Jethro!" Raw desperation ripped through Tony's panicked voice. Too late, Gibbs realized how Tony must have interpreted the shake of his head, him walking away.

Tony rounded in front of Gibbs, standing before him once more, blocking his way.

"Wait! Just listen to me, Jethro. You wanna know the real reason I did it? It wasn't so much that you were my first man. That didn't matter, not really. It was more that I couldn't cope with…"

Gibbs saw the flush, which had faded, return to his face. He stayed silent for a few seconds. Gibbs heard him take a deep breath, saw him pull up his shoulders. Then Tony looked Gibbs straight in the eyes.

"I couldn't cope with the feelings that I had for you, Jethro. Never felt so much before, for anyone. Got scared. Didn't have the balls for it at the time".

Gibbs felt something twist in his gut, although he didn't say anything.

When he didn't respond, Tony reached a hand out, slowly, clearly fearful of rejection. He touched Gibbs' shoulder, stroking tentatively. Gibbs felt the strength of Tony's feelings in the warm hand on his shoulder, in the fingers moving up to stroke his neck. Tony's touch spoke of love, of remorse, of a promise for the future.

Looking into Tony's face, he saw his look of want, of need, of love, pleading with him.

But it was so much more than that. The expression on his face reminded Gibbs of the way that Tony had looked at him in the past, where he'd seen that Tony returned his feelings, known that Tony was growing to love him. This look said infinitely more, though. This look told him beyond question that Tony loved him. There was no way that Gibbs could remain in any doubt whatsoever as to the strength of Tony's feelings, not when Tony looked at him like that. It was there in his eyes; Tony's love, naked and exposed, laid bare for him to see.

Through the fog in his brain, he heard Tony's voice. "Jethro? Will you at least…just think about it? If you think that maybe you could…will you give me another chance?"

It wasn't what Tony said that broke the spell. In the end, it was the look, the touch. They achieved what words hadn't been able to. They were the magic charms that snapped him out of his silence. Once again, it was from his gut that he spoke, rather than from his rational mind. He only said one word. But it was enough.

"Yes".

That one word shattered all the anger, guilt and regret that had been between them. Tony grabbed Gibbs, pulling him towards him and kissing him as if he was the only available source of air, of life itself. Gibbs couldn't seem to hold Tony close enough. His hands were in Tony's hair, on his back, caressing his ass, everywhere. All the pent up feelings between them poured out into the kiss, which was hot, fierce and possessive on Gibbs' part, contrite and yielding on Tony's.

Tony pulled back.

"You mean it, Jethro? You'll give me another chance?"

Gibbs pressed hot kisses down the side of Tony's neck, his hands pushing up under Tony's sweatshirt to stroke the soft skin underneath. God, he'd missed having Tony in his arms so much.

He loved him. There was no more doubt in his mind. To forgive Tony, completely and utterly, was the only option.

He realized that Tony was waiting for an answer.

"Yeah. You and me, Tony, we were good together. More than good. Want that again. You've got another chance".

He felt a shudder run through Tony's body. He held him close, stroking the soft brown hair, waiting until he felt Tony begin to breathe normally again.

Gibbs pulled back from Tony, took his face between his hands.

"Gotta make it clear, though, Tony. You fuck around on me again…"

"Won't, Jethro, I swear".

"…And it really will be the end for you and me. Won't overlook it a second time, no way. You got that? You really got that, Tony?"

Tony's response was to kiss Gibbs fiercely, pulling their bodies together. "I got that, Jethro. Hell, I dunno what on earth you see in me. I know I can be a total screw-up at times, but if you'll have me then you're what I want. Need you so bad".

"Let's take this upstairs", murmured Gibbs, his mouth moving down to kiss the side of Tony's neck, all fatigue completely forgotten. He took Tony by the hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

Upstairs, in the bedroom, Gibbs drew Tony towards him for another hot kiss. Pushing him up against the wall, he pinned him to it with his body as his hands caressed whatever part of him he could reach. Tony moaned, pressing his groin hard against Gibbs.

Gibbs eventually broke off the kiss. He backed away and sat down on the bed, leaning back. "Strip, Tony. Show me what you've got for me".

Tony pulled off his sweatshirt, tossed it on the floor. Gibbs tutted. "Messy. That'll cost you".

"Yeah?" Tony purred. "You'd better make good on that promise, Jethro".

Gibbs didn't answer. He was too busy gazing at Tony's hard body, his muscular chest. His eyes followed the line of dark hair down to where it disappeared into Tony's waistband. "Jeans. Off. Now. Don't make me tell you twice".

"On it, Boss". Tony unbuckled his belt and unfastened the buttons on his jeans, pulling apart the sides of his fly to reveal his erection trapped in his briefs. Gibbs crooked his index finger at him. Tony walked over and stood in front of him.

Gibbs slowly inserted his hand into Tony's jeans to squeeze and stroke his cock. Tony moaned, holding onto Gibbs' shoulders for support. Gibbs continued to stroke and explore, slipping his hand round to Tony's ass. He pushed up under the fabric of his briefs, one finger rubbing itself along Tony's crack and over the puckered flesh of his asshole.

"Don't tease, Jethro", Tony pleaded.

Gibbs continued to stroke and caress Tony's hole, never quite going inside, despite Tony pushing back against him. "You forget, Tony. You belong to me. That means I'll do what I like. If I want to tease you…"

He squeezed Tony's left ass cheek hard. "Then I'll damn well tease you". His mouth twitched into a grin. "You got a problem with that?"

"No problem, Jethro". Tony pushed himself forward so that he was straddling Gibbs' lap, Gibbs' hand still on his ass, and leaned in to kiss him. "Well, yeah, actually. My balls are gonna fall off if you don't fuck me soon". He kissed him again. "Fuck me, Jethro. I'll even say please if that's what you want".

Gibbs lay back on the bed, pulling Tony down with him. They kissed, holding each other close, Gibbs' hands in Tony's hair and Tony's stroking up under Gibbs' sweatshirt. God, I've missed this man, missed him so much, thought Gibbs.

Eventually they broke apart. Tony leaned back to look at what Gibbs was wearing.

"Hey, my Galliano sweatshirt! I wondered where that had got to". He pulled it up and over Gibbs' head, before dipping his mouth down to lick and nibble Gibbs' nipples. His hands reached down to pull off Gibbs' sweatpants and toss them on the floor.

"Lose the jeans, Tony", Gibbs ordered. He rolled his eyes, gave a shake of his head in mock annoyance. "Second time I've had to tell you. We'll deal with that later".

Tony laughed – "That a threat or a promise, Jethro?" – and obeyed. Both men were now naked, pre-come leaking from their hard cocks. Gibbs reached up and pulled Tony down beside him. He didn't think he could wait and didn't plan to. He reached over to the nightstand, pulled out the lube.

"On your back, Tony. Want to fuck you face to face".

Tony lay on his back as directed, pulling a pillow over to shove under his hips, raising them up. As Gibbs took the top off the lube, he reached over and took it from him.

"Let me, Jethro".

Tony squeezed a generous amount of lube on his fingers, then grasped Gibbs' cock. Gibbs started at the touch of the cold lube on his flesh; Tony stroked his fist up and down the shaft as Gibbs moaned out his pleasure.

Tony pumped Gibbs' cock for a while, and then passed the lube back to Gibbs. "Want to feel you inside me, Jethro. Need you now. Please".

"Get your legs open, Tony", Gibbs ordered. He didn't wait for Tony but pulled his lover's knees apart. Without any attempt at finesse or gentleness, he thrust his index finger straight up Tony's asshole. Tony's body bucked upwards at the rough invasion; Gibbs bent down to kiss him as he fucked Tony's hole with his lubed finger.

Gibbs' kiss was fierce, dominating, his tongue matching the actions of his finger. He felt Tony jerk up against him as he thrust a second finger in, Tony moaning into his mouth. Gibbs held Tony tight up against him with his left hand as his right one continued to stretch him, a third finger sliding in to join the other two.

He pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock against Tony's loosened hole. Without any delay, he thrust straight up all the way into Tony, causing him to jerk up off the bed, an inarticulate cry coming from his mouth. Gibbs grabbed his wrists and pinned Tony down onto the bed, his grip bruising and inescapable. He drove hard and fast into him. Tony wrapped his legs around Gibbs' waist, raising his hips up, his movements mirroring Gibbs' thrusting.

Gibbs felt like he had to reclaim Tony; there was a primeval element of taking back possession of him. Tony was his and he'd make damn sure he never left him again. He wanted to leave his mark on him; leaning down, he fastened his mouth on Tony's neck, biting hard. He continued his rough thrusting into his ass. From the sounds that Tony was making, he was hitting the right spot.

"You're mine, Tony", Gibbs growled. He stopped thrusting, looked down at Tony. His grip on his wrists tightened. Tony moaned, trying to push his hips up to regain the friction in his ass.

"Mine, Tony. You belong to me". He leaned down to press his mouth hard against Tony's. "You got that?"

"Yeah, Jethro", Tony breathed. "Yours. I belong to you". He pushed up frantically against Gibbs. "Reckon I always have done".

Gibbs relaxed his hold on Tony's wrists, leaned back up and started thrusting again into Tony, who was groaning out his pleasure. He could tell that he was close to the edge. Hell, he was himself. He grasped Tony's cock and pumped it hard. It only took a few strokes. With a loud cry, throwing back his head, Tony came, hot splashes of come spurting out onto his stomach and over Gibbs' fingers.

Gibbs, watching Tony and feeling him bucking under him in ecstasy, couldn't hold off any longer. With a cry to match that of Tony, he came deep within him, hard and fast. Then he collapsed down beside him.

Both men were hot, sweaty and panting in the afterglow of pleasure. Tony grabbed Gibbs and pulled him into a sticky embrace, holding him tight. Gibbs pressed kisses into Tony's hair.

Tony spoke first. "What made you change your mind, Jethro?" He nuzzled Gibbs' shoulder, pressing little kisses onto the skin. "What made you stop me going to see Vance?"

"Don't rightly know", replied Gibbs. "Reckon it started with what Rose Haslar said to me. About forgiveness". His fingers stroked gently over Tony's collarbone. "Must have made more of an impression than I thought at the time".

He kissed Tony softly. "Didn't know I was gonna call you back down until I did. Came straight from my gut. Surprised me as much as it did you".

"Glad you did", Tony said. "I meant what I said, Jethro. Want you and only you. It'll never happen again. Swear to God".

"Oh, I intend to make sure it doesn't happen again", said Gibbs dryly. A small smile curved his mouth.

"It won't, honest, Jethro…"

"First chance I get, I'm going to have a conversation with Abby", said Gibbs.

"I don't get it, Jethro…you gonna tell Abby about us?"

"Nope".

"What, then?"

"Gonna get the name and address of her tattoo artist".

"What?!"

"Yeah", said Gibbs. He reached round and stroked Tony's ass, feeling the firm flesh under his hands. "Need to warn off the competition. Gonna get "Property of Leroy Jethro Gibbs" tattooed on ya. Maybe on this fine ass of yours".

"Jethro! No way!"

"Thought you said you'd do anything I wanted".

Tony laughed. "Yeah, reckon I would. Just don't think you're serious about that one, Jethro".

Gibbs pulled Tony towards him for a fierce kiss. "Not too keen on that idea, are ya, I can tell. Could be you've got a point". He laughed. "Be a real shame to mark that butt of yours. Reckon I'll go for Plan B".

"Which is….?"

Gibbs reached over into his nightstand. He brought out a well-used pair of leather handcuffs.

"Reckon I'll cuff you to my bed every minute we're not at work. That should do it. Handcuff you up so I'm the only one who can ever fuck you. You good with that?" He grinned at Tony.

"Hell, yes! Need you ask?" Gibbs laughed.

He bent down to kiss Tony. As he did so, he silently thanked Rose Haslar. To err was human, she had said, and Tony wasn't the only one in this relationship who'd made a mistake. Gibbs knew now that his error was that he'd been too proud, too unyielding, too ready to jettison Tony without really thinking about what he was throwing away.

True, he'd found it tough, really tough, to accept Tony back into his heart but now that he'd done it, he marvelled that he'd ever thought he could have a life without this man in it. Tony was his future, his very being, his love. Maybe he'd tell him soon exactly how he felt, that he loved him.

To hell with telling him soon. The time was now.

He grasped Tony's face, held it between his hands, looking down into his eyes. He moved in, slowly, oh so slowly, to kiss him. Then he said the words.

"I love you, Tony".

The ten thousand watt smile on Tony's face touched Gibbs deep in his heart. "Love you too, Jethro. So much".

Gibbs pulled Tony's body against his own, holding him close. It was curious how he felt only strength now, not the weakness he had feared. It had taken Rose Haslar's words to tear off his mental blinkers and force him into realizing what forgiveness really meant. How it could heal even the deepest of wounds. And it had taken Tony's touch, his look, his love, to finish what she'd started. Forgiveness may have been hard to do, damn hard, but the results, held tightly in his arms, made it all gloriously worthwhile.


End file.
